The Legend of Zelda: Forgotten Goddess
by N Felts
Summary: Chronologically following the events of Twilight Princess, Forgotten Goddess tells of a young boy on a familiar journey. Through forests and deserts, into temples of fire and shadow he must overcome obstacles never imagined. Every evil ever faced through the darkest moments of Hyrule's history cannot compare to the grand plot now manifesting.
1. Prologue

The following is a work of fan-fiction. Though it goes without saying, "The Legend of Zelda" video game franchise as well as its characters are owned by Nintendo. This work is not for sale. The author reserves all applicable rights and will not stand for any attempts at monetary gain via this work. The following would not be possible without the creativity and vision of the well-known individuals responsible for the source material. Please continue to support the official releases this work merely attempts to pay homage to. Thank you, and enjoy.

This story follows the "child timeline" of the games. It is not meant to be canon content.

I say again. It is **NOT** meant to be canon content.

Still, without an intimate knowledge of Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask, and Twilight Princess in particular, some parts of the plot may not make sense. Obviously you should expect spoilers if you've yet to play these games.

**The Legend of Zelda: Forgotten Goddess**

**By: N Felts**

**Copyright N Felts 2012**

**Available everywhere e-books are sold!**

**Prologue**

The lingering sun of late afternoon cooks the flatstone walkways of Hyrule Castle Town. A visible wave of heat waves lazily, streaming up and out of the worn grooves of a thousand horse drawn carriages. The town itself seems critically ill. Symptoms of a deteriorating civilization are everywhere. Overgrown grass hangs over alleyways. Fallen leaves crowd the south side of every building, the consistent breeze from Lake Hylia to the south ending here after its long journey across Hyrule Field. The lively music and bustling crowds are a distant memory. Now the shop keepers rest lazily in their stalls, praying tomorrow brings more sales. Brings any sales at all. The days of townspeople fighting over the latest trend, the rupees flowing like Zora's River, are long gone. Children used to fill their pockets with sweets from spare change accidentally dropped into pots or thrown into the fountain at the heart of the market, but now they scamper through alleyways, stealing when they've grown hungry enough. The town has known neither order nor wealth for many months. The only remaining haven of prosperity is the church on the east side of town. Stained glass shimmering above the massive, wooden double doors depicts mighty Hylia with her Goddess sword in hand. Inside the pews are rarely empty. Even at this odd hour, several of the townspeople remain seated, their hands clasped in hope of their savior delivering them from this depression. There is no dark force to be slain this time around. No reemergence of evil to be suppressed. A blade, no matter how divine, cannot pull crops from their parched seeds, nor rain from the cloudless sky. The people give offering, and they pray, but for months their prayers have gone unanswered.

Resting in a dark corner behind the organ, a young boy named Rift spins a small, wooden box between his thumb and index finger. Watching the shanty piece of craftsmanship slowly turn in his grasp, his mind remains blank, simply waiting for yet another day to pass. His emotionless face is shrouded beneath an old, damaged cowl. Hanging from his shoulders is a black cloak donning the royal crest on both the front and back in faded gold stitching. Resting lightly on his chest and back, it ends in a short, triangular point in his lap. Given to him by the priest, the cloak primarily conceals the gaping holes in his cheap outfit of faded cotton. Taken in as a toddler, Rift remembers little of his parents. The priest has told the story several times, casualties of the plague of darkness brought about by the dark lord Ganondorf years ago. Now his time is spent waiting. Not waiting for anything in particular, just endlessly waiting for the night to fall, and the dawn to break. A general uneasiness sounds from the pews as a group of children enter the building.

"Rift, you in here?" The leader of the gang calls out, glancing around the massive room. Making no effort to conceal or reveal him, the tired old priest simply stares at the troublemakers dumbly. The boy's words echo in the profoundly silent room, disturbing the peaceful ambiance.

"Don't cause trouble," a gruff voice sounds from beside the doors. One of the few town guards has been posted at the church to keep the peace. Scowling lazily from beneath his traditional helm, he briefly stamps his spear on the wooden floor before cocking his head toward the door. "Go on," he commands, not particularly eager to incite a confrontation.

"We're gonna find you!" A young girl in the group calls as they collectively march out of the structure with an air of superiority. Hobbling over to Rift's hiding place, the priest simply isn't spirited enough to protect the boy any longer. Years of fear and hiding have made the church a target of vandalism, the children practically running the town with no one especially willing to discipline them.

"Rift," the old man sighs, palming the dusty organ for balance. "You know you're like a son to me, but this can't go on any longer. I won't always be here to protect you. Please," he continues, coughing briefly. "You've got to stand up for yourself. Pray to Hylia, and she will protect you." Watching the old man with sad eyes, Rift climbs to his feet and pockets his treasured box. The wooden boards beneath the decorative rug creak with every step as he slowly exits the church. Peeking through the single opened door, a rapid series of anxious breaths are halted when the sentry breaks the silence.

"They headed north toward the castle," the guard points out, caring little for the boy's fate, but offering the information all the same.

"Thanks," Rift smirks, aiming to sound genuine, but coming off as abrasively sarcastic. Without another word he quickly trots through the lifeless, stone streets toward the massive drawbridge at the gate. He will spend the brief portion of the day that remains outside the confines of town. In the distance, the gang of children passes from alley to alley near the twisting path leading up to the castle. Once a symbol of hope and unity, its many spires seem to hang their heads in shame at the current state of the kingdom.

Pacing near the balcony of his room, King Harkinian has never looked less healthy. A thick, white beard hangs down from his wrinkled face. Once the visage of a hardened warrior, time has done what it does to men of any status. The darkest of days has come and gone. The king of thieves had stolen his very throne, but just as the prophecy foretold, the hero of time struck him down. He had seen the tinge of deceit in the Gerudo's eyes so long ago, but never expected such an uprising in his own kingdom. Between the civil war and Ganondorf's treachery, Hyrule has enjoyed very little peace during his time on the throne. Now, the distant land of Arcadia would dare move to threaten Gamelon, assuming Hyrule in a state of weakness. Duke Onkled received the might of Hyrule's army immediately, but the cost has proven far greater than assumed. The time of darkness has passed, but the drought continues. The able bodied men march to war, and now the kingdom is trapped in a veil of decay. The people of Castle Town remain disparaged, and the further one travels from the castle gate, the more uneasy the inhabitants of the kingdom become. A period of prosperity is long overdue to them, but with the hand the King's been dealt, it's simply not in the cards. His lovely Princess has shied away from a life of politics, and he has never needed her beauty and natural charm more than now. The people need a symbol of hope now more than ever, and his tired old face is far from reassuring these days. The light continues to fade, the beams piercing through the tall windows lining the hallways growing longer by the minute. Another thick bead of sweat crawls from beneath his crown as his perpetual angst refuses to relent.

A raven soars past the balcony, continuing over the church's steeple, and into the open air of Hyrule Field. No matter how unproductive and desolate it becomes, the landscape remains a gargantuan display of beauty. Gradual hills stretch out as far as the eye can see as the setting sun dances on the golden grass. Resting listlessly in the only place he can feel at ease, Rift watches the rolling puffs of dust twinkle in the last of the days light. Resting against a particular rock face near the river pouring down from Zora's Domain to the north, he listens to the subtle music, only discernible when the wind is just right. The reeds on the small plateau overhead seem to hum a blissful melody while the cattails beside the bridge knock on the dry wood rhythmically. Reaching into his pocket, he produces the wooden box. A metallic protrusion on the side is twisted, the soft clang of thin metal sounding between turns. Finally letting his palm rest on the dry grass next to his thigh, the box plays his favorite song, and memories of his mother invade his thoughts. The only thing he can remember clearly is darkness. A blanket of shadow enveloping everything around him. However, the feeling of a profound warmth against his cheek kept the fear at bay. The sensation of impossible comfort only offered by a mother's embrace. The feeling he lost so very long ago. The current times promote selfishness and survival of the fittest. Lacking these traits is certain to lead him to an early grave.

"Found him!" A girl yells from above. Shaken from his trance, Rift scrambles to his feet to find familiar faces arriving from multiple directions. Failing to hang on to his spikey black hair, his hood collapses onto his back. The leader arrives after the rest of the group has congregated on the ledge, parting them to look down upon his prey. An athletic boy named Rho, always carrying the wooden sword his father gave him before leaving to join the defense of Gamelon. An aggressive child destined to rise to power, however small the extent of his reign may be. The other children obey him without question, knowing his potential violence is much more than a mere threat.

"I told you not to hide from us," Rho shrugs, his stoic face especially intimidating in the fading light. The only child with a respectable ensemble, his baggy, brown overalls end in a pair of boots no one could afford these days. His surprisingly clean, white shirt has only one long sleeve, the other removed to imitate the elite soldiers his father has joined. "You think you can stay in our town without paying up?"

"We're not in," the girl on his right starts, clamping her hands over her mouth as Rho shifts his glance to her. A bit of a know-it-all for Rho's taste, Ona has a difficult time keeping her mouth shut. A year or two younger than Rift, she can be even more aggressive than Rho at times, knowing her fearless leader will back up any threat she can conjure. Waiting hopelessly, Rift grips his music box tightly behind his back, afraid sliding it back into his pocket would be noticed.

"I don't want to see your face around here anymore," Rho continues, hopping off the small plateau and forcibly prodding Rift in the chest with his sword. Remaining silent, Rift grimaces painfully, but continues to carefully conceal his treasure. Stumbling away, he is denied a chance to run as the rest of the group quickly encircles him. Looking back to Rho, he sees the jig is up. "What's that?" He demands, prodding Rift with the sword once again. Oblivious to his approach, Rift is taken by surprise when one of the boys sneaks up behind him and snatches the music box away. Dahn, a human from Ordon Village, is the original member of Rho's posse. Always eager to pick a fight, he couldn't have been happier to help Rho take over.

"Got it!" He shouts excitedly, turning it over in his hands. "It's some kind of box. Looks stupid."

"Give it here," Rho commands, prompting the boy to toss it over Rift's head. Gripped with panic, Rift watches in horror as his only possession of value is idly inspected by his worst enemy. A much stronger breeze pushes through the field as the sun has nearly set. Unable to find the courage to speak, Rift utters a weak whine, grabbing Rho's attention.

"Oh, does the baby want his toy back?" Rho teases, tossing it to another kid.

"Over here!" Another calls as they continue to toss the box to each other, just out of his reach. Straining to catch a wayward throw, Rift fails over and over again as the children continue to taunt and tease him. Stumbling after a missed catch that just grazes his fingertips, he is on his back looking up before the sting of pain is registered. A heavy swing landed on the bridge of his nose as Rho nearly managed to knock him out with his trusty sword. Tears of pain welling up in his eyes, Rift weakly grabs at his face while Rho dangles his music box over him.

"Awwww, is the baby gonna cry now?" He continues to taunt.

"Rho," Ona calls, afraid to interrupt, but clearly wanting to point something out.

"Shut up," he absently responds, poking Rift mercilessly as he is denied the chance to get back to his feet.

"But, the sun," Ona pleads. Pointing at the sparse light, dipping into the desert beyond the canyon to the west.

"I said shut up!" He demands, enjoying the power too much to be distracted. Without another word, she flees back toward the bridge, still down for the time being. The pain and humiliation is too much for Rift to handle, curling into a fetal position and waiting for the children to lose interest. As the yellow glow of the sun fades into the dim, blue glow of the moon, a Wolfos howls somewhere in the distance. It is only now that Rho realizes the danger he is in. A rumble of earth to the group's left is all it takes to incite a panic. The remaining children begin to run for the bridge, only to be cut off by a bony hand springing from the earth. They've strayed from the safety of the castle walls, and now the Stalchildren are upon them. Scrambling to his feet, Rift finds Rho gripping his sword tensely, unsure if he should fight or run. Making a move to take back his music box ends in disaster as Rho's quick reflexes allow him to dodge Rift's advance and trip him back to the ground effortlessly. "Pssh! Take it," Rho shrugs, tossing the box toward the small bridge leading to Kakariko Village. Thoughtlessly chasing after his most prized possession, Rift is unaware of Rho's plot to save his gang at Rift's expense. Charging toward the multiple tiny skeletons, clumsily marching after the kids with glowing orange eyes, Rho beats them down with a rapid succession of strikes. Beckoning the group to join him he continues to knock the weak apparitions aside as they close the distance to the bridge. The endless parade of fleshless anatomy continues to emerge, their jawless mouths seeming to grin at the easy prey.

Finally locating his box, Rift turns back toward Castle Town to find the bridge is already beginning its ascent, the chains connected to the old wood loudly cranking while the children's hearts collectively sink. The dry grass crunches beneath his sandals as Rift sprints toward the group of hoodlums, desperate for some level of security. Enemy or not, he needs Rho's protection if he intends to survive the night. Rho cracks yet another Stalchild's head open, the collection of bones collapsing like a house of cards and slowly seeping back into the ground like quicksand. The persistent demons seem to be defeated for the moment, the endless spawning of fresh enemies pausing for a time. Seconds from reaching the group, Rift is thrown off his feet when yet another deformed, skeletal head blasts upward from the earth. This Stalchild is twice the size of his predecessors, and proportionally aggressive. Slowly crawling away on his back, Rift can't help but utter a squeak of fear, unintentionally grabbing the ghoul's attention. Its large, soulless eyes lock on the helpless boy as it gracelessly turns to claim his life. Scrambling to his feet once again, Rift breaks into a sprint in no particular direction. Glancing over his shoulder, he is relieved to find the skeleton is much slower than him, his sights already turned back to the group of screaming kids. Rho attacks courageously, but his wooden blade snaps in half against the monster's forearm. A wave of defeat washes over the group, cowering above the rushing torrent of water beneath the raised bridge. Turning away and squeezing his eyes shut, Rift does his best to block out the screams of terror as the merciless monster bears down on them. Peeking into the dim night, he realizes his troubles are far from over as yet another Stalchild has surfaced, swinging a bony hand at him. Tripping to the side, he narrowly dodges the attack as more of the undead continue to climb into the haunting blue of the moon.

His eyes darting about in search of some kind of safety, he only finds the dark entrance of the Faron province, a dusty trail leading through an opening in the trees. The bouncing orange eyes seem to close in from all directions, and he is left with no alternative. Pulling his hood back onto his head, he flees into the dark forest, a place the Stalchildren will not venture. A plethora of insects spiral about the lush green landscape, and the chirping of life cascades over him like a coming storm. Unsure what he should do, Rift moves forward slowly, utilizing his dark clothing to fade into the shadows. The eerie glow of the moon pierces through the canopy in sporadic beams, the countless tales he's heard of the woodland creatures doing nothing to stifle his fear. Without warning, a seemingly harmless plant snaps to life, aggressively latching onto his arm with its hungry mouth. A shriek of pain echoes through the trees as the plant whips him back and forth through the air before launching him into a nearby tree trunk. Writhing in pain, he grabs at his arm, dripping with the nectar salivating from the plant's carnivorous mouth. The plant itself angrily snaps its toothless, blue jaws, straining to finish off its prey like a dog on a chain. Its long, flexible stem becomes a collar of sorts, Rift's leg just out of reach as the boy painfully climbs back to his feet. The hostile foliage seems to dare him to come closer as it returns to its passive stance, waiting for its next victim.

Another howl cuts through the night, and Rift begins to wonder if he'd be better off facing the Stalchildren. Being thrown through the air robbed him of his bearings, the already difficult to follow path nowhere to be seen. A mammoth, hollow tree trunk serves as a hallway of sorts, its moss covered bark glistening in the moonlight. Proceeding through as carefully as he's able, Rift holds his throbbing arm, failing to fight the tears of pain away. Somewhere in the distance, past the aggressive plant life and over the buzzing insects, he'd swear he hears music. Another massive tree trunk leads him left, and the song increases in volume. Some sort of flute generating an upbeat melody, a song of dance and celebration. A song of innocence. Yet another hollow passageway of wood and moss, and Rift's focus returns to reveal he is hopelessly lost. Even if he could summon the courage to return to Hyrule Field in the dark, he couldn't find his way if he tried. The forest itself seems to spin around him, the chipper music starting to fade as he decides to go right at a small clearing with multiple exits. Suddenly, a large object strikes him, bouncing off his shoulder blade like a wayward fastball. Wincing in pain, he turns to find a deku shrub waddling toward him angrily. Generally known for their passive nature, the tiny, armless creatures shrouded in leaves have grown increasingly hostile as the drought begins to threaten the forest. Its large spout of a mouth retracts, and before Rift can react, another deku nut blasts at him as if fired from a cannon. Striking him in the stomach, the force knocks him off his feet for a moment. Searching for a way out, he feels a rush of air whip past his head and realizes he is being fired upon from multiple directions. The shrubs prove every bit as relentless as the Stalchildren, emerging from every direction. Shielding his face, Rift sprints deeper into the forest, stumbling when yet another nut collides with the back of his knee.

Tripping forward, the boy has less than a second to collect the appropriate amount of dread as a massive gorge fills his vision. The cliff he is departing appeared no different than any other random span of forest, but his perception has betrayed him as he becomes certain this fall will be his last. Flailing through the air, a dangling vine catches his leg, utilizing his momentum and throwing him past the shallow pools of water far below. Landing harshly on a loft of roots and earth, he feels as though he may faint, the excessive adrenaline too much for him to take. A haunting mist hangs over the gorge. Caressing the walls of roots and foliage, it masks the path ahead, reflecting the dim glow of the moon like a haunted graveyard. Giving the prospect very little thought, Rift decides to stay put until morning. Attempting to travel in the night has brought him nothing but pain and misfortune. Through the thinning mist along the wall of his loft, Rift spots a fairy bobbing along an uncertain path. Moving steadily away from him, he remains resolute until yet another Wolfos howl creeps over his shoulders. The beasts are getting closer and closer every time he hears them. Unable to decide what he fears more, Rift scrambles to his feet to chase down the fairy. Rounding a corner along the wall of the colossal gorge, he catches a brief glimpse of the winged creature disappearing overhead. Trotting over to the wall of tangled roots, he realizes he can climb up with little difficulty. Never one for excessive physical activity, the events thus far have left him barely able to continue. Still, fairies are believed to be every bit as lucky as they are rare. He needs any amount of good fortune, however small it may prove to be.

Pulling himself up and out of the gorge with quite a bit of effort, he again spots the fairy dancing through the air, vanishing behind a group of trees to the northeast. Jogging through the valley at a steady, but cautious pace, Rift occasionally loses his footing atop the weaving roots underfoot. The ground itself is nowhere to be found beneath the intricate tangle of branches and vines, holding strong beneath the fine mist pressed against them. The valley has many trees, but they are bunched up in small collections leaving the bulk of the area open for traversing. Growing worried, Rift has failed to spot the fairy and realizes he must be moving too slowly to keep up. Circling another group of trees he jumps with fright to find a deku baba waiting. Its blue, salivating head rests on the ground motionlessly, and upon further inspection, Rift realizes it has been slain. Moving around the corpse as carefully as he would if it were still alive, he soon stumbles upon yet another leafy cadaver. The lofty valley becomes harder to traverse as the mist thickens at every turn. Following the path of death tentatively, he spots the fairy once again in the distance.

Veiled in the blue aura of the moonlight mist, a gargantuan temple of grey stone stands among the massive trees. Bitterly beaten by the hands of time, the structure looks as though it could collapse at any moment, the crafted slabs of stone and mighty pillars barely holding the structure upright. Bobbing up the ascending staircase, the fairy is barely perceptible through the dense fog. Delighted to find some degree of civilization, Rift advances forward, stopping short when his foot collides with something warm. A mighty Wolfos, cut down in its prime, rests atop the braid of roots forever. Its yellow eyes stare into space, void of the feral focus they once knew. His heart skipping a beat, Rift is forced to take a moment to find his breath as his panning vision spots yet another downed guardian of the forest. Suddenly unsure of who, or what he's following, the boy decides to proceed much more carefully. Regardless of what he may find inside the temple, he is certain it can't be as bad as the forest itself. Longing to be indoors once again, he climbs the dated stairs leading to the massive doorway of the structure.

Finding no door, only a large archway, Rift apprehensively steps through, baffled when his senses are fundamentally restarted. Passing through some sort of invisible portal, he only realizes how incredibly noisy the forest was now that all sound has ceased. The large room is impossibly quiet, and the interior is equally pristine, the stone floor and walls appearing as if they are immune to decay. Afraid to make a move, Rift feels reassured when he catches a glimpse of a man wearing green proceed through a large doorway on the opposite end of the room. Considering calling out to him, he quickly changes his mind, fearful of what else may hear him. Moving through the room as quietly as he's able, Rift notices a strange pedestal standing in front of the door. Odd symbols are etched into the stone atop the long, rectangular stand. A display for some sort of religious artifact. Proceeding up the short staircase, he finds the remains of what must have been thought to be an impassable door. Massive chunks of obliterated stone are scattered about the doorway, apparently blasted by some kind of weapon. Carefully stepping between the pieces of debris, Rift stops short when the spectacle within the next room grabs hold of his eyes. A series of torches line the walls of the tremendous room, each resting upon a pillar a short distance from the outer walls. Across the walkway leading between the pillars, hundreds of stairs climb high above the ground level leading to something just out of vision atop the plateau of stone.

A monstrous man moves up the staircase at a steady stride, his long, purple cape with gold trim billowing with every step, and concealing his form completely. Shrouding his head is a relic of a helmet with four horn-like protrusions reaching up from the top. The material is of unknown origin, a blend of dark colors coated in an array of symbols. Encircling his head, the helm reaches well down to his chest, ending with intricate designs. The upper-left portion of the helm seems to have been recently reconstructed, the section plagued with cracks and crevices. Unsure of where the man he saw moments ago has gone, Rift has no intention of getting the imposing warlord's attention as he steps back into the shadow of the doorway. An accidental step lands on a piece of rubble, causing a scrape of shifting stone to echo through the silent room. Spinning on his heels with impossible speed, the man on the staircase throws his encompassing cape off his chest, the material sliding around his shoulders within the custom pauldrons and resting on his back. His dark armor does little to deny his probable sinister nature as he rests both hands on the blades sheathed on his thighs. Ready for a fight, the emotionless face carved into his helm triples the already ample intimidation he is generating.

A series of sandals lightly striking stone sounds as a small squad of assassins drop from their imperceptible hiding places high above. Obviously Gerudo, their dark skin and fiery, red hair are illuminated as they emerge from the shadows. Dressed in the traditional garb of the Gerudo women, their baggy, silk pants end in a jeweled belt just below the navel. An alluring brassiere matches the red texture of the pants as well as the scarf tied beneath their matching ponytails, concealing everything below their intense eyes. Two of the women brandish large scimitars, while the third skillfully twirls one of her chakra as they search for the source of the noise. Shaking in horror, Rift cannot summon the courage to move as the two subordinates close in on him while the chakra wielding leader waits near the base of the stairs. Descending upon the bad intentioned duo like a spider, a shadowy figure suddenly whistles a three-note melody, pulling the attention of the women up to the dancing traces of light from the torches. Obfuscated by the large, cylindrical pillars just inside the doorway, the light and shadow waves to and fro in a black and orange theatre of stone. Finding nothing, the women remain vigilant, scowling past the rubble of the dark doorway. A torrent of spikes erupts from their left like a rain storm, impaling one of the warriors countless times. Frozen in place, the unfortunate Gerudo shakes mildly, paralyzed by the needles riddling her form. Stepping over to defend her ally, the warrior is nowhere near perceptive enough to notice the twisting shadow flip overhead, landing on her shoulders in a handstand. Unable to do anything but stare in horror, her paralyzed companion watches the figure snap her ally's neck effortlessly, dropping back into the shadows with the briefest glimpse of blond hair. Finally able to work her eyes about, the Gerudo searches between the cast shadows and flickering light furiously, desperately attempting to regain her motor functions. In the instant between heartbeats, the shadow is upon her, staring into her very soul with its red eyes. Frozen in fear himself, Rift clings to a large hunk of rock, remaining concealed for the time being. The shadow's hand gently takes hold of the Gerudo's ponytail at the base, and Rift's eyelids decide they desperately need to replenish moisture. Before the blink of his eye even reaches the halfway mark, they've both disappeared with a muffled squeak of pain.

Intimately aware of the certain doom moving into the darker places would bring upon her, the remaining warrior tensely grips her circular blades, waiting for the shadow to step into the light. A twirling dagger enters the torchlight from behind a pillar. Spun on an index finger via a loop at the base of the handle, it sheds the last of the blood it has claimed from its most recent victim. An arm wrapped in white cloth follows suit as the figure reluctantly rounds the pillar, and is revealed. A Sheikah, pulled strait from the legends of their almost forgotten race, decides her time in the dark is up. Her skintight, blue jumpsuit seems to let go of the darkness' embrace like a pair of lovers forced to part. A splash of blonde bangs conceals what little of her face isn't masked by the white collar of her cowl, rising up past her nose and hovering just below her single visible eye. The red symbol of the Sheikah, the tear-drop eye, stands out boldly on her tattered, white cloak. Bobbing forward, like a bird approaching a worm, her movements are too refined to be considered simply graceful. Her mannerisms are profoundly odd, but obviously well practiced as she seems to half-skip toward her opponents, a long, tightly wound braid bouncing on her back. Her ninja tabi style boots practically hover across the stone floor, touching the flat slabs briefly and soundlessly. It isn't a style or grace that defines her, nor is it excessive stealth or skill. It is timing. Utterly perfect timing that allows all of these concepts to radiate from her form like an aura of mastery. Having expected this turn of events, the helmed man upon the staircase prepares to engage the sly assassin.

The subtle twang of a bow string doesn't catch the man's attention, but in the instant before the arrow hits its mark, his dark, gauntlet covered hand whips up in a blur, batting the arrow aside like a pesky fly. Even with his senses shrouded by the helm, the man's reflexes are impossibly acute. Two more arrows scream through the air in rapid succession, fired from some unseen location at the room's perimeter. The first is slapped aside just as easily as the initial shot, but the second is caught, the dark man's absurd speed becoming even more obvious. Crushing the feathered bit of wood like an oversized toothpick, the man drops the pieces to the ground tauntingly, prompting their owner to emerge with a throaty war cry. A tunic of a deep, forest green rests upon a simple farmer's outfit, aside from the leather gauntlets and weaponry. An average Hylian kite shield hovers just above the ground in his right hand while an equally average broadsword skips along the stone in his left. Clearly having seen a hundred battles, the blade appears well past its prime, though dangerous as any weapon in the proper hands. His blonde hair is only partially concealed beneath a long green cap, flapping against the quiver on his back as he rapidly closes the distance to the staircase upon which his nemesis resides. Gliding just ahead of him, the very fairy Rift followed to the temple seems to lead the charge into battle.

A circular blade narrowly misses its target as the Sheikah twists left and continues to stalk the evasive Gerudo. The second chakra flies low along the ground, easily vaulted over by the nimble woman. Seeming to have overplayed her hand, the Gerudo waits for an ideal opportunity before summoning her weapons back to her palms. Taken by surprise, the Sheikah flips forward into a twirling display of athleticism as the blades simultaneously return along their trajectories. Catching the discs with a twirl of her own, the Gerudo advances to engage in combat of a more traditional nature. Meanwhile, the man in green leaps several stairs at a time to close the distance to his waiting antagonist. Faking a low, scooping swing, he suddenly changes into a spinning, vertical backslash, aiming to cleave the man in two. Reacting at the last possible moment, the dark man unsheathes the pair of daggers on his hips, catching the approaching blade between them. His movements are not fast in the typical sense, but appear meditated upon until their execution. His body seems to be moving as if it were submerged in water one second, and the next, a blur of dark purple, impossible to follow with untrained eyes. Throwing the young man's blade aside with a sudden blast of force, the helmed warrior stares at him curiously for only a moment, a torrent of metal clangs sounding the next as his blades bounce off the kite shield aggressively. Barely able to defend in time, the young man remains resolute, spinning into a whirlwind slash that forces his dark opponent back a step. Two successive slashes are batted aside with fierce, graceless movements, the dark man's speed and reflexes showing no openings in his guard.

Just below the battling men, the females continue to trade assaults, neither of them quite able to gain the upper hand. The Sheikah's skill and timing seem impossible to overcome, yet the Gerudo's tactics prove overwhelming, her ability to keep the ninja at range an invaluable asset in the fight. The bladed discs scream past the Sheikah at varying angles, but fail to find their mark time and time again. Managing to move in close, the assassin slashes diagonally, narrowly missing the Gerudo as she awaits her thrown blades to magnetically return to her empty hands. Seamlessly arching into a scorpion kick, the blonde ninja pulls a sharp groan of pain from her red headed combatant as her foot lands dead center in the Gerudo's armorless chest. Catching one of her returning blades, she immediately launches it back, missing the Sheikah's leg by a negligible margin. Spearing into the stone floor, the razor sharp disc remains useful, preventing the assassin's leg from returning from whence it came. Forced to warble off-balanced for only a moment, the ninja must push her elasticity to its limit as the second chakra is caught and thrown at her head. Watching a small tuft of hair drift away from her, the Sheikah decides this battle has gone on long enough. Twisting impossibly into a prone position on the floor, her red eye narrows as she finds her ideal footing in her spider-like pose. Skipping back a step, the Gerudo doesn't let her gaze wander, hoping the ninja will make the critical mistake of moving into the path of her returning projectile.

A storm of stabs is consistently deflected by the helmed man's twisting blades. The suddenness of his movements makes the task of reading ahead unachievable. His every instance of attack or defense seemingly conceived only an instant before it is carried out. Striving for the unorthodox, the young man scoops a low swing, knowing it will be easily deflected and appear to offer an opening. Catching the blade between his own once again, the dark man is taken by surprise for the first time as his spirited opponent throws an overhand right with his shield. Barely able to dodge in time, the shield nicks the man's helm as his head jerks backward to avoid the collision. Having expected a solid impact, the young man is temporarily off balance, over extending his reach with no assistance recoiling. Spotting his opening, the cloaked man dips forward, his blades ripping through the air at imperceptible speeds as he attempts to cleave the man's shield arm off at the elbow. Refusing to let panic dull his senses, the young man releases his heavy shield, the weightless effect allowing him to pull his arm out of harm's way just as the pair of swords slice by like a deadly pair of scissors. The razor sharp blades promote their sinister intentions as they manage to slice the tip of the young man's fingernail off like a heated blade through a stick of butter. Determined to keep the upper hand, the helmed man knocks the idly floating shield aside with a heavy back-fisted strike, sending it soaring away. Shaking off the minor setback, the young man elects to wield his sword with both hands, amping up his aggression ten-fold as he attempts to turn the tables.

Springing toward the Gerudo like a bloodthirsty frog, the Sheikah spins into a perpetual tornado of kicks. Another cry of pain escapes the desert dweller's lips as the final kick in the series connects with her jaw, causing her to backflip out of danger. Squeezing the handle of her unique dagger, the ninja nimbly closes the distance once again, but notices the twinkle of deception in the Gerudo's eyes. Her awe inspiring agility saves her life for the second time as she springs into a graceful gainer just as the blade returns to its owner. Landing on her wrapped knuckles directly in front of her enemy, the Sheikah pushes off the ground, spearing both heels deep into the Gerudo's exposed stomach before she can attempt another attack. The air knocked from her lungs, she inadvertently tosses her only chakra over her shoulder as she lands harshly on her back, gasping for air. Rolling off her downed opponent's chest, the ninja spins into a break-dancing maneuver, flipping back to her feet in an instant. Regaining her senses, the Gerudo summons her weapons, each of them embedded in the thick stone floor. Springing into the air, the assassin arcs her back with her dagger overhead, prepared to finish the fight once and for all. Both chakras leap up out of the floor simultaneously, taking an arching path through the air to return to the Gerudo's grip. Realizing the timing is perfect for an effective counter attack against her, the Sheikah twists her body one hundred eighty degrees before spreading her legs and reaching her idle hand downward. Her midair splits defense proves effective as the Gerudo waiting upon her back realizes her predicament far too late. Each of the chakra bite into the Sheikah's boots, but fail to return to their master's hands.

The ninja's hand lands upon the Gerudo's shoulder, pinning her to the floor as the dagger stabs between her breasts. The chakra dig back into the floor, vainly attempting to return to the defeated warrior, uttering her final raspy breath. Pressed against her slain opponent, the Sheikah steals a glance at the dark man battling her companion while she waits for the blades pushing against her soles to concede where they lie. The cloaked warrior knocks the man in green back a step with a powerful blow, earning himself a moment's reprieve to spot the ninja absently lowering the eyelids of his comrade while plucking the knife from her chest. Behind her golden bangs, her red eyes begin to study her new prey, angrily slashing at her courageous hero in sudden bursts of speed. Dodging another onslaught, the hero spins to the side, slashing and stabbing without restraint. The cloaked warrior catches the man's broadsword between his blades once again, thinking briefly of his fallen companions, then realizing the young man's shield rests far below near a distant pillar. A kick finds the hero's stomach, every bit as brutal as it is sudden. Wincing from the unpredictable attack, he strains to shield himself from the coming blow when his ally appears from nowhere, joining the fight from above. Her reflexes significantly more honed than her companions, the Sheikah attacks and dodges with ease despite the man's unorthodox style. Their strength combined, the duo quickly overpowers their helmed antagonist, finding himself permanently on the defensive.

Throwing his large cloak into the air, the man eludes a wayward stab from the ninja while parrying a heavy swing from her ally. The critical second of weakness allows only for a blunt strike to the hero's temple, knocking him to the ground with a grunt of pain. Wasting no time, the Sheikah takes full advantage of the man's overzealous attack, whipping her legs into a triangle lock around his forearm. Forced to use her entire body to generate enough momentum, she twists the man's entire arm just enough to force the blade from his grasp, the short sword thrown further up the staircase, and landing with a series of clangs. Instantly enraged, the man grabs hold of her vulnerable ankle as she attempts to disengage the leg lock. Able to maintain her balance, the Sheikah is still unable to pull her leg free of the man's powerful grip, catching her in a desperate position. Winding up for an amputating chop, a painful slash hacks across his back, almost able to penetrate his armor. Knocked forward, the man's balance is thrown when the woman backflip kicks his helm with her available leg, the momentum carrying her overhead and tearing her ankle free. Finishing the somersault she lands an additional back kick to the man's wobbling head before dropping down next to the determined young man, ready to finish the outnumbered warlord.

Tripping forward, the man's cloak billows, revealing the large gash cut diagonally through it. Catching himself before he tumbles onto the stairs, he lifts a shoulder to glance back at the duo. Already moving in for the kill, both the Hylian and the Sheikah strive to land the final blow. Refusing to admit defeat, the man's helm suddenly glows eerily, the symbols peeling outward as a dark aura emanates from its crevices. A sudden blast of invisible force pushes the duo back a step, giving the man a head start as he charges up the stairs. Their faces twitching with irritation in near unison, the pair quickly chase after him. Spotting his secondary blade resting upon a step, the man scoops it into his idle hand without losing an ounce of speed. The unintelligible glyphs and symbols continue to spread outward, projected into the open air around the helm, charging up for some unknown purpose. Sheathing his swords, the man has nearly reached the summit, moving with imposing speed toward his goal. Illuminated by the lone opening in the ceiling of the temple, the master sword, the blade of evil's bane rests within the pedestal of time at the center of the platform. Finally finishing his ascent, the man stops short, straining to harness the power radiating from his helm. Quickly focusing the swirling darkness into a concentrated beam, he fires a colossal blast of energy, tearing open the dimensional doorway to the Sacred Realm.

Kept at bay by the impressive power of the helm, the duo now continue their chase as the man sprints through the door, and into a dazzling golden light emanating from within. Eying the master sword with an impatient grimace, the young man decides there is no time, forcing his legs to carry him even faster as his blade wags in his wake like a metallic tail. The dark man's boots hit the soft dirt with rapid crunching noises as his eyes become entranced with the intoxicating wonder of the Triforce. Moments from his grasp, the relic erases the years of regret from his mind as the golden glow encompasses everything around him. The imprisonment, his botched execution, the accursed hero of time, all of it fades from his memory until an overwhelming pain drops him to his knees. He hadn't heard the man in green catch up to him with a cry that echoed throughout the realm. Glancing down through the slit on the front of his mask, he finds the broadsword almost completely through his chest, the hilt pressed against his back. With an assertive shove, the young man pushes him to his hands and knees, waiting for death to finally take him away forever. Everything was for naught. The years of struggle and planning. His resurrection and rise to power. Only to be stopped so close to his prize… No. As long as there is a breath in his lungs, he will not be stopped.

The primal roar of a beast tears out of his throat as he uppercuts the young man on the jaw, sending him sprawling into the approaching Sheikah. With the very last of his strength, he clumsily marches forward, his fingertip finding the glistening edge of the most sacred of relics before he collapses to the ground. As if the sun itself were blinked out of existence, the entire realm goes pitch black. The pyramid the Triforce once rested upon ceases to be discernible, the only source of light twinkling from the dimensional doorway behind them. Unsure how to react, the duo duck for cover when the hero's broadsword rockets between them like a whirling propeller. Spinning through the portal, and past the massive staircase, the sword spears deeply into the wall next to Rift's hiding place. Gasping with shock, he remains unable to move, aside from the endless shaking fits of adrenaline and fear. The forest will certainly kill him, but his chances of survival don't seem any better in his current setting. So he does the only thing he knows how. He hides. Praying to the deity he was told would save him from any peril.

The hero's boots kick black dirt in his wake as he makes a run for the master sword. Following suit, the Sheikah nimbly bobs backward, expecting an attack at any moment. The most sinister laughter booms from every direction of the Sacred Realm. Moments from seizing the blade, the man in green is lifted off the ground by some unseen force, his flailing arms reaching for the blue grip of the blade's handle. Kept just out of reach, the young man sails over the pedestal completely, lifted high into the air before he is thrown to the ground with a harsh landing. The wind knocked out of him, he grabs at his chest, attempting to catch his breath. Passing through the portal, the ninja dips off the side of the platform, vanishing into shadow while the dark man comes into view. An orb of powerful energy surrounds his form, the aura somehow glowing black and white at the same time. The glyphs and symbols from his helm begin to slowly spin about his head, his power continuing to grow exponentially. Stepping through the portal, the orb surrounding him wavers for a moment, the unbelievable strain to hold the might in balance beginning to take its toll. However, the cloaked man laughs again, exerting total control over the most potent power in existence just as the Sheikah descends upon him.

Screaming in agony, the assassin is stopped moments from landing upon the man's shoulders. The orb surrounding him assaults her with electricity, the buzzing and crackling light illuminating the entire room before she is thrown to the ground next to her hero. Making yet another dash for the sword, the young man is punched in the stomach with a bolt of lightning, throwing him back onto the staircase. The undeniable power causes the man to grin crazily beneath his helm, but even so he knows there is only one artifact capable of harming him. The helmed villain raises a single palm as the young man pulls the Sheikah to a sitting position. Shaking her head, she appears to be alright, but the duo have failed to keep the man from achieving his goals. Beginning to shake within its pedestal, the master sword cracks down the length of its blade, the almighty power of the Triforce proving too much for it to resist. His eyes widening, the hero can only stare in disbelief when the blade of evil's bane shatters to pieces, each of them blasting completely out of the temple in different directions. The only surviving fragment, the blue handle, dropping onto the pedestal with a weak thud while the owner of the Triforce barks more evil laughter. Multiple beams of blue light peer through the holes created in the thick walls, and the unsuccessful couple feel the verge of defeat upon them.

Never giving up for even a moment, the man in green pulls his bow from his back, lining up an arrow with its target. Thoroughly amused, the dark man chuckles at his misplaced bravery, crossing his arms and waiting for the pathetic attack to fail. Knowing they are out of options, the Sheikah scours her mind for anything to outwit her godlike opponent. Rarely failing her before this moment, her wisdom persists, knowing there must be a way to strip the warlock of his power. Unable to find the willpower to do anything at all, Rift sits with his knees to his forehead, hugging his shins tightly. The worst day of his life seems as though it will never end, the screams and blasts of light above paralyzing him with fear. As the arrow disintegrates the moment it enters the dark man's force field, his delight is palpable, relishing in his supremacy. As if the arrow struck some unseen weakness, his aura falters, warbling and flickering as if its source of strength has been disconnected. Seconds later, it disappears completely. Stricken with confusion, he drops to a single knee as his power flees from his body rapidly. A golden hue spreads through his veins, glowing through his armor as if it has turned translucent. Fighting to regain control, he lets out a roar of desperation as the entire room is consumed with a blinding light.

The vision-obliterating white fades from everyone's sight slowly, the room returning to the dim flicker of the torch-lit walls. The portal leading into the Sacred Realm has vanished, the three combatants standing about the empty pedestal of time. The Sheikah is no longer among them, a gorgeous Hylian Princess standing in her place. An elegant pink and white dress flows down from her jeweled necklace, the royal crest emblazoned upon it. Brownish-blonde hair flows down from her golden crown, her blue eyes fixated on her right hand. Removing his mighty helm, the former possessor of the complete Triforce reveals himself to be a Gerudo. Tightly braided red hair fades down into a short beard upon the man's angry face. Tossing his bow to the ground, the young man steals a glance at his sword hand, not expecting the Gerudo to launch yet another attack. Stopping at arm's length, the mighty punch hits a magic wall just before finding its target. Whipping his vision to the right, he finds the Princess' outstretched arm, her palm glowing with a small, golden triangle. Fuming with rage, he looks back to the hero to find his left hand risen, revealing a triangle of his own.

The infinite power of the Goddesses has been split once again, despite his best efforts. The resulting anger is nothing that can be controlled or stifled. He must kill them both. A garbled roar spills from his tongue as the evil Gerudo summons a dark vortex of energy around his glowing, golden hand. The next punch is not stopped so easily, shattering the Princess's force field and landing square in the young man's chest, sending him flying down the massive staircase. Wasting no time, he slaps his hand to the floor, a whirlwind of purple spawning around his feet as a fireball flies past his head and explodes. Preparing a second ball of fire to be thrown, the Princess fails to notice the dark energy forming around her feet. Unable to launch her second attack in time, a series of black chains leap from the ground beneath her, seizing her form and radiating with simmering purple energy. Fighting to break free of the constricting restraints, the Princess ceases her struggle when the man marches over, stopping inches from her face. An authoritative slap across her cheek leaves her wincing with her eye tightly shut, the blow meant to send a message more so than dealing damage. A heavy footstep betrays the sneak attack as they young man has returned with sword in hand, leaping through the air for a double handed finishing strike. Catching the blade in his hand at the last possible moment, the pain streaming up from the Gerudo's bleeding palm only serves to further enrage him. Tearing the sword from the hero's grasp, he summons another vortex of energy before punching the tested steel to pieces.

Without even flinching at the loss of his only remaining weapon, the young man leaps into the air, rocking the Gerudo's head to the side with a roundhouse kick. Continuing to trade blows, the Hylian hero is quickly overwhelmed by the man's brute strength. A rapid series of devastating punches and kicks leaves the relentless young man barely clinging to consciousness. Seizing him by his tunic, the power being summoned to the tyrant's fist for the final blow shrouds the entire room in darkness, the swirling hurricane of black and purple causing every loose object in the room to gravitate toward it. The boulders of the destroyed entrance, the torches attached to the pillars, even the weaponry of fallen comrades begins to slide toward the black hole high above the room's center. Prepared to obliterate his nemesis once and for all, a piercing ray of white light cuts through the darkness, grabbing his attention. Using every available ounce of energy to assault the man in green, the Princess has been freed from his dark restraints upon her. A conjured bow in hand, she has summoned an arrow of vibrant light, squaring up the shot carefully. Infected with memories of the pain the magic arrows have caused him, the Gerudo tosses the beaten hero aside, turning to face the new threat. Struggling to align her aim within the persistent pulling force of dark energy, the Princess fires the arrow just as the dark man pounces at her.

A power struggle of cataclysmic proportions ensues, the divine light colliding with the dark energy, blasting pulsing waves of intensity and color in every direction. Only able to alter the arrow's path, the man's arm burns with purifying light as the arrow pierces through his punch, colliding with the wall behind him. A whirlwind of light and darkness illuminates and obfuscates the room as a portal to the Sacred Realm is opened by the holy projectile. The lone soul of evil in the room is pulled into the air, the portal churning like a vacuum of light, sucking the Gerudo into the realm of darkness he created. Flailing through the air, he draws his blades, stabbing them into the two pillars directly in front of the hungry portal. Straining to pull himself away from the torrent of wind, clawing at his form with invisible hands, the man's arms are pushed to the brink of surrender while the portal slowly shrinks in circumference. The vacuum finally relents, the portal closing completely with a brief wink of light as it fails to claim a victim. Seemingly trapped in a crucified position, far too high above the grey floor to simply drop to ground level, the man rips his blades free without a second thought. Sprinting across the open air, large glyphs of purple light form beneath his feet, ushering him back into the fight. With another light arrow already pulled tightly back, the Princess shows no signs of hesitation as the man returns to the platform.

Waiting one second too long, the Princess loses her opening as the man scoops his helm up from its temporary resting place beside the pedestal, and forms a glyph beneath himself. In the blink of an eye, the glyph jumps upward, rocketing him through the lone opening in the ceiling. Aggravated by his successful retreat, the Princess drops to a knee, the mental stress of summoning successive light arrows proving too much for her to bear as the entity of divine power is reabsorbed into her hand. Limping to her side, her hero offers a hand, though his battered form is in no condition to carry her. Accepting with a smile, the Princess climbs to her feet, and the couple help each other descend the long staircase toward the exit. Now that the action has subsided, the room has grown extremely dark, all of the torches having been plucked off the wall. Through the small opening in the ceiling, moonlight casts a blue shape on the wall above the entrance, gradually descending to reveal a terrified child's hiding place. Unsure if he should stay or run, Rift's brief moment of calm has passed as the duo draws closer to him. Dipping into the room, and out of the thin beam of light's path, he presses his back against a nearby pillar, the cool stone relaxing him as best it can. The couple proceeds past without incident and Rift breathes a heavy sigh of relief. He doesn't know how, but he's survived. Reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow, panic grabs hold of his heart one last time. He has received a triangle on his hand as well, but unlike the recently departed three, his does not possess the golden glow of the Triforce. The inverted pyramid glows a haunting, transparent blue, allowing him to see clearly through his own palm. His senses rapidly grow fuzzy as his balance wavers, the room tilting and rotating around him slowly. Thoroughly overwhelmed, the boy passes out in a bed of shadows.


	2. Chapter 1

**The Empty Handed:**

**Some Safety Comes with Numbers**

Lying inert in a dreamless sleep, Rift fails to notice the thin beam of light tracing an arc through the large room as most of the day passes. He hears a woman's voice softly calling, but he cannot make out the words. A silhouette of a stranger he cannot seem to reach, always drifting just out of earshot. Lost in the dark blanket of his mind, he subconsciously yearns for his mother's warmth, having spent so many nights shivering himself to sleep. Gradually surfacing from his impromptu slumber, the subtle coo of, "wake up," only courses him to stir slightly before descending back into unconsciousness. "Hey!" The voice finally declares with some authority. Snapping to attention, Rift's eyes dart about his surroundings, but he is alone in the large room. Just as the previous night, the colossal structure is void of external influence, the sounds of the forest halting at its doors. "Listen," the voice begins, her friendly tone sounding as though it should belong to a middle aged woman. "Your hand glows with the power of the void. You are the chosen one," she explains, her mildly chipper manner sounding mature, but not maternal. Thoughtful, but not compassionate.

"W-what?" Rift eventually stammers, understandably perplexed. Locking his eyes upon his palm, he instantly remembers the eerie hue resonating from the transparent triangle. A subtly swirling vortex daring his eyes to move closer. Somewhere in the infinite depths of the dimensional window, he can feel the enticing call of a siren as invisible hooks tug at his heart, drawing him closer and closer.

"That Gerudo shattered the Triforce again," the voice explains, unintentionally snapping Rift out of his trance. "You know the legend, right?"

"Triforce? What's going on? Who are you?"

"Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself I guess. My name is Mai," she greets, waiting for the gesture to be returned. "What's yours?" She has to ask to break the awkward silence.

"Rift," he reveals after a bit of thought. Unsure of whom or what he is speaking to, he decides it knowing his name is the least of his worries.

"Nice to meet you, Rift," she smirks, seemingly pleased to simply be conversing.

"Y-yeah," he mumbles, still searching the empty room with his back to the wall.

"You look confused," she giggles. Obviously a carefree spirit, her casual nature speeds Rift to a less panicked state of mind. Easing off the wall he continues to listen. "This might come as a shock, but I'm one of the Goddesses responsible for this world. When that man broke the Triforce, I was finally released, and you have become likened to my essence."

"Goddesses?" He interjects, setting aside the prospect of having lost his mind for the moment. "I thought Hylia was the only Goddess."

"Of course," she sighs, a hint of attitude seeping through her words for the first time. "Hyruleans haven't worshiped us for a while now. Everyone used to know the legend of the three golden Goddesses. Time has found new deities and they've forsaken us," she admits, suddenly sounding quite sad.

"Three Goddesses?" Rift thinks out loud, the influx of information distracting him from the fact that there is a voice in his head that isn't his own. The general naiveté proves advantageous if only to distract him from far grander revelations.

"The popular legend has remained three, yes, but in fact there have always been four. My sisters didn't want anyone to know about me, and time has proven them successful in their endeavors. Even when the Triforce was first separated, they only offered a taste of their power to the recipients. The majority was kept intact to sustain my imprisonment," she reveals, a substantial bitterness lingering in her words.

"Imprisonment? What'd you do?" He asks with unhindered trepidation. As if having a voice in his head weren't bad enough, she's an escaped criminal to boot. Suddenly, her happy-go-lucky routine pales in comparison to her potential crimes.

"It's not what I did. It's what they were afraid I would do. I never wanted this world to become what it has. There is nothing but pain and suffering in every corner of this kingdom. You've seen it, haven't you?" She asks, her compassion shining through her words. "You've felt it yourself?"

"Yeah," he has to admit with a somber nod. His parents taken from him. The drought, the crime, the hunger, the weakness, and the humiliation begin to well up in him. All of it has crushed down upon him his entire life. To no end but his own torment. He'd never truly thought about the meaning of it all. Why he is meant to suffer day after day. Why the other children are driven to harass him at every turn. Why the lands are plagued with dark uprisings time and time again. He has neither the knowledge nor the experience to even attempt an understanding. This is simply the only world he's ever known.

"This is why we were drawn together. My sisters were forced apart so severely I was finally able to escape. It's terrible what they've done to everyone. What they've done to you," she points out, pulling Rift from his vacant stare. Suddenly, this ancient lie he's never known is given form and has a voice. The existence of Goddesses of creation, perpetually stained with a civilization's anguish, rotates all the hidden pieces into perspective. His sorrow finally attains a source, daunting as it may be. "If I could have stopped them, you wouldn't have been forced to endure all of this suffering. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, though," he quickly points out, feeling genuinely empathetic for the mysterious voice of Mai. "They all ganged up on you, right?"

"Yes," she sighs, seeming to want to change the subject. "I'm no match for them all at once."

"I know how you feel," he admits, trailing off as his memories drift to Rho, jabbing at him mercilessly. Though Rift takes no pleasure in the misfortune of others, seeing the boy fail to defend the other children gave him an overdue bit of satisfaction, however brief. Ona's screams of terror slapped the feeling from his heart as Rift ran as fast as his legs could carry him, his eyes mashed shut as he tried to block out the horrified cries. He couldn't have helped them. It's the only reasoning he has ever needed. He couldn't have helped if he tried.

"Would you help me?" She asks, a profoundly innocent curiosity pressing into his ears.

"H-help you? I c-can't," he mumbles, instantly uncomfortable. "I mean, I can't do anything well. I wouldn't be any help."

"That's not true," she giggles, rapidly growing more comfortable with her new companion. "Everyone can do something well."

"Well not me. You should find someone else," he blurts out, quickly regretting it when an uncomfortable lull in the conversation ensues.

"I chose you, Rift," she half-whines, prodding at his vulnerable sympathy. "I don't want someone else." Badly blushing in the dim room, Rift doesn't have the words to respond. In the silence that follows, he feels as though she is in the room with him. She is sitting right next to him, so close he can feel her breath against his neck. She is real, and she chose him. A lifetime of rejection has led him to being chosen the one time it truly matters. It seems all but foolhardy to refuse.

"What do you want me to do?" He finally asks, an anxious quiver tickling down his spine.

"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to," she admits, her tone heightening as she tries to avoid offending. "All I want is to stop my sisters before they can hurt anyone else. I can't do it on my own, but together I think we might stand a chance."

"I'm not brave," Rift painfully admits, not wanting to enter into a contract under false pretenses.

"You don't have to be," Mai chuckles, sensing him slowly coming around.

"I'm not strong either," he declares, feeling more and more pathetic with each proclamation.

"It's not about being strong or brave," she comforts, reaching out a nonexistent hand to touch his cheek. "I just need you to try."

"Why?" He sighs, ready to give up long before he's begun. "Why me?"

"Because you're the only one who sees the pain I see. I feel like I can trust you."

"I don't know," he sighs, weighing his options.

"Please? I don't want to be alone anymore. Do you?" His eyes instantly betray his potent loneliness as he reacts to the question. She wants to be with him. Despite all of his shortcomings, she wants to be with him. The instant emotional attachment doesn't seem real to the boy. "If you'll help me, I'll never leave you," she expresses, her words conveying her genuine feelings well.

"Promise?" Rift asks after a moment.

"Promise," Mai promptly agrees.

"Okay. Where do we start?"

"Thank you. We should get out of here before it gets dark," she admits, noting the late afternoon sun peering through the small hole in the high ceiling.

"Where are we going?" He asks, starting toward the door, stepping between the bits of rubble. His disclaimer of bravery was no ruse, but still, he can't help but try his best to impress the mysterious woman. His meager amount of initiative will have to do for now.

"A special place in the forest. I'll show you the way." Shuffling through the massive stone architecture, Rift makes his way back into the forest. The sun strikes his eyes through the canopy as he exits the temple. Absently pulling his hood back over his head, he trots down the short staircase and proceeds across the loft of roots. "We need to get back to the lost woods," Mai instructs as Rift makes his way back down the ladder of roots he climbed the night before. "Do you think you can climb up a vine?"

"I don't know," Rift admits, thoroughly uncertain of his athletic prowess, though he's never truly tested it.

"I believe in you," she conveys sincerely, adding, "we won't let anything get in our way. We're going to save Hyrule."

"You really think we can?" He asks, spotting a low hanging vine on this side of the gorge. Dangling at different distances and lengths, a plethora of thick, ropey foliage sways gently from the canopy far above. A rush of startled birds pours from distant trees, rapidly concealing and revealing the sun. There is some potent spirit within the realm of nature. A concept Rift has never grasped, despising most outdoor activities. The beauty of the forest is beyond him, but it is of little consequence.

"I know we can. First things first, let's get out of this place." After a deep breath, Rift takes hold of the vine, slowly working his way upward. Once again, the dim blue triangle fills his vision, and succumbing for only a moment, he quickly sets his mind back to the task. "You're doing great," Mai cheers, "use your legs for momentum to get to the next one." Heeding her advice, Rift kicks back and forth before making the short leap to the next vine. Gaining a little confidence, he continues upward, the vines offering a path all the way up to the very ledge he fell from. Several jumps later, Rift successfully grabs hold of a vine, but the slightly thinner circumference snaps the moment his weight is applied. With a panicked scream, he tumbles downward, all of the available vines just out of his reach as the fear takes hold. "Here!" Mai shouts, the faint outline of a ghostly hand pushing a vine closer to him. Reacting just in time, Rift grabs hold and squeezes the leafy weave of stems in a death grip. His falling momentum causes the vine to swing all the way to the wall of stems and roots overlooking the gorge. Colliding with the soft wall, he grabs hold, letting the vine that saved his life swing back without him. "That was close," Mai breathes, relieved he managed to survive the fall. Withholding comment for the time being, Rift struggles to pull himself up the gradual slope of the wall. The weave of earth and roots feels uncomfortable against his soft, uncalloused hands, the dirt working its way between his fingernails equally unwelcome. Finally emerging back onto solid ground, he gradually catches his breath.

"You can move things?" He asks after calming his racing heart.

"Small things," Mai shrugs, not thinking the feat particularly awe inspiring. "It's because I've been trapped so long, my powers in this world are weakened. I should be able to help you more once I get the hang of it again."

"I just," he starts, not sure what questions to ask to achieve a better understanding.

"Hmm?" Mai asks curiously.

"Nothing," he concludes, shaking his head and pulling his hood back up. Continuing forward, Rift is relieved to find no deku shrubs in the area. The deku baba are much easier to spot in the daytime, and he avoids them without incident. Still, the carnivorous plants watch him pass with great interest, their sense of smell capable of tracking far better than most of their vision based competition. Soon enough, Rift can almost recognize his surroundings as he emerges back onto the beaten path. A short bridge of wood and rope connects a small gap in the roadway. After passing beneath a dark archway of earth, the narrow passage expands into a large valley. The area seems to have been inhabited once upon a time, but now it is void of any occupants at all. "Where are we?"

"This is where the Kokiri lived before the drought. See the stream bed over there?" Mai points out, the yellowish-green blight upon the ground making specific features hard to spot.

"Yeah," he nods, the depression in the earth looking as though it hasn't seen a drop of water in quite some time. At the far end of the valley, thick overgrowth blocks what must have been a passageway a long time ago. Several large, decaying tree trunks have entrances carved into them, but the potential of dangerous creatures inside is enough to quash Rift's curiosity.

"The entrance to the woods is up there," Mai reveals, a pair of steep hillsides to Rift's left making the climb difficult, but possible. A large, hollowed tree trunk acts as a cylindrical hallway into the thick woods atop the hills.

"Through here, then turn right," Mai announces with an upbeat tone.

"How do you know which way to go?" Rift can't help but ask, feeling permanently lost in the lush environment. The deeper into the forest he travels, the more lively and vibrant the trees and wildlife become. Sparse patches of dehydrated grass slowly become lush blossoms of ferns and flowers. The rich smell of young tree bark grows overwhelming, and pure.

"I can hear the music. It will lead us to the Kokiri. Left, then right again."

"Music?" He mumbles, listening intently while following her directions. The hollowed trees serve simply to disorient, every intersection virtually identical to the previous one. The rarely traveled dirt path offers no clues as to the choices of previous adventurers either.

"One of the children is playing it I'm sure. Left."

"Children? In the forest? Isn't it dangerous?"

"Not for these children," she chuckles, ignoring their surroundings while feeding Rift directions. "The forest is their home. The drought has forced them much deeper, but I suppose one patch of trees is as good as any other. Straight through here, then left," she continues to instruct, the music swelling with every hollowed trunk they pass through. The multitude of insects swells with every corner rounded, the dragonflies seeming to glow in the beams of sunlight. The occasional squirrel scampers away from the path, not desperate enough for food to risk a confrontation with a traveler. The vivid greens are a humbling sight for someone so accustomed to the decay of Castle Town.

"Will they let us through?" Rift asks, failing to mask his nervousness.

"Of course, they're friendly to other kids, but they don't like adults. Turn right." Traversing the final trunk, Rift finds himself in a large clearing populated by children dressed in green. Hovering above each and every child's head, a fairy dances through the air. Massive tree trunks serve as homes, the large arches carved out serving as doorways to the wooden abodes. The architecture is of a minimalist nature, the colossal trees serving as multi-story apartments, but only altered just enough to be inhabitable. Awestruck by the stunning visual, Rift ponders if the man he followed to the temple lives here.

"Hey," Mai calls, snapping Rift from his brief trance as he takes in the sight. "Just to be on the safe side, you should cover your hand with something." Having forgotten about his faintly glowing triangle, Rift takes a moment to determine the best way to conceal it. Finally, he tears a large portion of his cloak, revealing some of his tattered, dirty shirt beneath. Wrapping the cloth around his palm, he secures the knot using his teeth. A small hole, already present in the material, offers a space to put his thumb through. Finished with his work, the meager, glove-like accessory is only mildly suspicious.

"Looks great!" Mai exclaims, beginning to seem excessively impressed by everything Rift does.

"You think so?" He asks, reassured with his handiwork.

"Absolutely. Let's go." Proceeding forward carefully, Rift meets friendly faces as he makes his way through the clearing. To the left, a series of plateaus serve as the agricultural area, a variety of crops strategically positioned to receive water from the weakly trickling creek slithering in from deeper in the forest.

"Hey, you need some arrows? Deku nuts, maybe?" A voice calls from the doorway of a hollowed tree with a decorative awning. After a moment, Rift realizes it's a sales pitch. A blonde girl with pig-tails stares at Rift mysteriously from atop the awning, something in her eyes advertising her intense interest.

"I don't have any money," he admits with a shrug.

"Well then get out of here! Don't need any gawkers driving away business," the store owner rants, though no one seems the least bit interested in entering the store. The blonde girl's unblinking eyes never drift from Rift as he continues through the area.

"Why is she staring at me like that?" Rift mumbles under his breath.

"Maybe she likes you," Mai declares, her words always encouraging. "We need to get past the ginger up ahead. He doesn't look like the welcoming type." The steep, earthy walls of the area narrow to a small passageway at the far end. Standing beside the almost empty creek bed, a tough-looking boy stands guard.

"What should I say?"

"Just ask him to let you pass. Try to sound confident," she adds, unsure if Rift is up to the challenge. Long before he even gets within speaking distance, the red-headed Kokiri already has a halting palm raised in Rift's direction.

"What do you want?" He asks, his cocked head and unfriendly grimace painting him to be the type who doesn't shy away from a fight.

"Can I get through?" Rift asks, failing miserably at Mai's advice.

"I don't know, can you?" The boy fires back, crossing his arms.

"I don't want any trouble, I just need to get through here," Rift admits, desperate to avoid any confrontation.

"For what? You don't even have a fairy. What are you, a human?" The boy asks, squinting at the dark visage beneath the black hood. Unsure how to answer, Rift is ready to walk away when a girl's voice catches his attention.

"Let him through, Mido," the blonde from the shop says, her zombie-like voice matching her crazed glare well. Shocked by her sudden appearance, Rift manages not to overreact too badly. Her eyes remain fixated on Rift's shrouded face as she talks.

"Why should I? And since when do I take orders from you, Fado?" Mido asks, though his weakened demeanor is far from appalled.

"I said let him through," she quickly demands, her tone gaining some base for just a moment. "He's different. He reminds me of someone," she half-mumbles, slowly drifting closer to the boy in dark clothing.

"You don't mean," Mido starts, losing his voice when Fado's eyes latch onto him for the first time. Clearing his throat, he continues, "alright, but he doesn't look like he can defend himself. It's dangerous in there you know," he concludes, glancing back to Rift.

"I'll be fine," Rift quickly mutters, eager to get away from the creepy blonde. Passing through the gap leads to a twisting hallway of earth as the pair of Kokiri watch him depart.

"Listen, I know it's dangerous ahead, but I'll help you, alright?" Mai assures, not wanting him to lose his nerve.

"Okay," Rift apprehensively nods, only now wondering what he's gotten himself into. The green corridor turns right, revealing a hungry Deku Baba. Much larger than the one that attempted to eat him last night, it's rows of razor sharp teeth drip with greenish nectar. It's large, bluish head bobs atop its flexing stem, ready for its prey to venture too close.

"Get ready, we're going to dodge past him," Mai declares, hoping to get Rift's adrenaline pumping.

"What? A-are you crazy? That thing will eat me," he stammers, already shying away from the predator. Scooping its head to and fro along the ground, the fanged foliage seems to be limbering up to catch the coming meal more easily.

"No it won't. You're faster than it is. You've got to trust me," Mai attempts to assure.

"There's no way, I mean look at it," he points out, the carnivorous lips seeming to smile at Rift's indecisive nature. A large tongue slaps against the drooling interior of the plant's mouth knocking bits of small woodland creatures out from between its teeth.

"Please? I promise we can do this. We've come this far together," Mai pleads, sounding as comforting as she's able.

"How? How can I get past?"

"Okay, you'll walk strait toward it, and when I say left or right, I want you to dive in that direction. I can tell which way he's going to attack before he tries it."

"You're sure?" He asks, obviously not convinced.

"Of course, have I led you the wrong way yet?"

"No, I guess not," he has to admit, recalling how she's guided him all this way. Comforted him. Saved his life.

"Come on, let's do this," she exclaims, sounding motivated as ever. Several apprehensive breaths later, Rift advances forward. The plant's head warbles, like a snake being hypnotized by a flute. Before he even thinks he's close enough to be attacked, Rift hears Mai shout, "left!" Diving to his left, Rift nimbly avoids the snapping jaws as they lunge forward. Tucking into a ball and rolling back to his feet, Rift sprints past the plant, angrily snapping its jaws as its prey escapes.

"You were right!" Rift exclaims, glancing back and breathing excitedly.

"See? Stick with me kid and we'll be alright," she teases, happy with their progress.

"Is that where we're going?" He asks, finally noticing the gargantuan tree at the center of a vast clearing. Circling the massive plant, he finds deep recessions in the trunk which resemble a face, the large arch entrance appearing to be a mouth frozen in a sad yawn.

"Not exactly," Mai smirks, clearly hiding something. "See that spot over there where the grass is blue?" Searching his surroundings, Rift locates the area she is referring to. Far to the right of the clearing's entrance, the lush, green field is marred by a small patch of odd, dark-blue grass.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Step on it. You'll see." Proceeding across the grassy field, Rift steps on the oddly shaped patch of grass without a second thought. Suddenly, gravity grabs hold of his gut as his foot dives through the earth as if it isn't there. Falling forward, he reaches out his hands, but they too push through the ground like an illusion. As his hood falls off his head, he drops into the imperceptible hole, and gravity is immediately turned upside down. Down becomes up and up becomes down when he finds his footing upon the dark blue grass on the other side. Reacting slowly, his senses find he is standing in an entirely new setting. A massive, decrepit temple stands where the old tree was only moments ago. The droning noise of wildlife is much harsher in this dim world, the entire setting seeming to have a darker tint upon it. A small archway of stone is wrapped in an embrace of dark vines, leading to a bridge spanning toward the temple. Below is a disgusting swampland, the pools of water slowly churning as the whirlpool drains through some small cracks at the lake's bed.

"Where are we?" Rift asks after taking in his surroundings.

"The dark forest temple," Mai informs. "A secret place where my special armor is hidden. We're going to retrieve it, and we'll be much stronger once we have it."

"How did I get here?" He ponders out loud, turning to find vibrant green grass in the same odd shape as the blue grass he fell through.

"A very long time ago, when my sisters created this world, I wept for the poor creatures that would have to live here. I couldn't help it. My sisters wouldn't listen to me, and afterward, they trapped me in the Triforce in order to keep me from mending their mistakes. They were too proud to heed my warnings," she continues with a sad sort of nostalgia. "Anyway, the places where my tears fell became portals to alternate dimensions like this one. My armor is hidden here, so only someone of my choosing can find them."

"Wow," he mumbles, the revelations leaving him in a speechless stupor.

"I know. It's a lot to take in. I'm trying not to overwhelm you, so I'll just give you a piece at a time. Right now, we need to get to that temple."

"Okay," Rift agrees, feeling a little more confident.

"I'll always be here to help. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," he nods, with more certainty. With only a voice to perceive, he cannot sense the contentment bordering on glee that Mai radiates upon hearing the response. Without a second thought, Rift jogs beneath the archway and onto the crumbling bridge. The pillars holding the slabs of stone aloft appear to be ready to collapse at any moment, their spongy, cream-colored texture showing obvious signs of imminent failure. Large sections have already fallen, forcing Rift to carefully maneuver forward. Hopping over a small gap, he is taken by surprise when the pillar below gives way, the large slab of stone suddenly plummeting toward the bleak, green water below.

"Here!" Mai shouts, a translucent hand emerging into the open air. The forearm fades into nothingness before ever reaching the elbow, though the limb is much more visible than the first time Mai saved him. The triangle beneath Rift's makeshift glove glows much brighter as he reaches for the ghostly grasp. Grabbing hold, the soft grip quickly swings Rift back upward with some effort. Obtaining just enough momentum to grab hold of the ledge, he scrambles upward, his heart rate gradually returning to normal while he resides on his hands and knees.

"How'd you do that?" He asks, pushing off the stone to rest upright on his knees.

"I told you I'll help," Mai giggles.

"Yeah, but," Rift starts, his head beginning to ache as he fails to understand Mai's abilities. "Thank you," he finally blurts out after shaking his thoughts free.

"Anytime," she chirps, a sincere sort of joy taking over her tone every time Rift shows even the smallest amount of gratitude. "Let's keep going." Continuing forward, Rift finally arrives at the end of the line, a huge section of the bridge missing just before the door to the temple. Feeling defeated, his body language shows the state of his spirit.

"Now what?" He asks, knowing he cannot possibly make the jump.

"We can make it. Do you trust me?" She asks, needing the constant reassurance.

"Yes," he confirms, feeling guilty for his defeatist attitude. Taking a few steps back, he expels a deep breath before sprinting forward. His leap is impressive, but far short of the goal. Already descending at the halfway mark, he hears Mai call out to him. Her hand latches onto his, and he swings back upward, sailing all the way to the platform in front of the door with ease. The deteriorating structure is overgrown with moss and vines, their fuzzy, navy-blue color profoundly odd. Rift notes that many of the plants seem hazardous to the touch as he approaches the large entrance. Stopping for a moment, he ponders how he will open such a heavy door, the wooden monstrosity obviously taxing its rusted iron hinges. Refusing to question Mai's resolve, he marches up to the obstacle, bracing himself to push. "On three?" She asks, delighted he is finally catching on. A solemn nod shows his agreement, and on the third count, two arms appear next to Rift, Mai's hands upon the door as she adds her strength. The old door grinds open slowly, and a dim light is cast into the bleak setting.

A disabling stench climbs through the open door, and Rift's eyes must adjust to the flicker of blue fire along the torch-lit walls. The main foyer leads to a pair of curved stairwells ascending to the second floor. A formerly red rug covers most of the stone floor, stained blue just like the walls and ceiling. Plant life has ravaged the interior as well as the exterior, several trees even managing to sprout up through the large cracks in the floor. Several hallways branch off from the main room, the entire building beginning to look like a maze. Already disoriented, Rift pulls his hood back over his head vacantly while his eyes wander throughout the room.

"Where is the armor?" He asks, praying Mai can lead him directly to it.

"Sorry, but I don't know. This place hasn't aged well," she admits, taking in the surroundings as well.

"Well," he starts, not realizing just how needy he's beginning to sound. "Where should I start?"

"We'll just have to start checking everywhere, but if you get lost just ask me where we've been. I have a really good memory," she points out with an air of pride. Deciding to simply move forward, Rift advances to the door between the dual staircases. Expecting to walk right in, he is frustrated when the iron handle to the old door doesn't budge. "We'll need a key. It must be nearby," Mai reveals, trying to help keep Rift determined. "Let's try a different room." Rift lets the minor setback go without succumbing to frustration, and jogs around the stairs to a hallway leading out of the room. The sound of rushing water grabs his attention as he draws closer to the entrance. Blasting up through the corner in a frothy torrent, murky water is invading the slanted room, only to drain out through a large hole on the opposite side. Nonchalantly stepping through the door frame, Rift's heart stops when Mai suddenly shouts, "Down!" Managing to react in time, Rift feels a hot, juicy substance splatter onto his back as he rolls forward. Spinning around, he finds a Deku Baba recoiling from the failed attack. Growing out of the wall above the doorway, it would certainly have claimed the life of anyone passing through without Mai's warning. "Sorry about that, I didn't see it until the last second," she admits, sounding flustered herself.

"It's okay, you saved me again," Rift conveys, getting back to his feet.

"Oh stop it," Mai laughs, sounding embarrassed by the flattery. "We're a team now, remember?"

"Right," he nods, smiling slightly. Scouring the room for anything useful, he traces a weave of roots next to the spout of water leading upward, and ending at a loft with some sort of box upon it. Wading through the mucky, green water, he quickly climbs the vines and finds a small chest resting at the top. Wasting no time, he pushes the lid upward, letting it fall back upon its hinges. Inside rests a small, silver key, which Rift snatches out with excitement. "That was easy," he grins, proceeding back down the ladder of roots.

"Sure was," Mai agrees, "at this rate I'll be slowing you down soon," she satirically implies.

"I don't know about that," he laughs, moving past the green fountain. Though he doesn't fully realize it, he's growing to like Mai. It's hard to curse your fortune when the one person you're sacredly fused with, is the one person who enjoys your company. Gradual as it may be, his obligation to help her is transforming into a willful adventure. Without missing a beat, Rift strolls right up the leafy predator, patiently waiting for him to try and exit.

"Right!" Mai shouts as the snarling plant lunges to Rift's left. Dodging the attack with ease, Rift is back in the main room in no time. Triumphantly opening the lock, he is confused when the key dissolves in his hand.

"What?" He mumbles to himself as the opening door reveals stairs leading downward.

"I guess we can only use the keys once," she shrugs without a hint of disappointment. "At least the door is open now." With a shrug of his own, Rift confidently moves down the staircase of the narrow hallway. At the bottom is a small room with a floor of mud and moss. Every step becomes stuck momentarily as he walks into the room, the act of removing his feet producing a slurping sound. Sickened by the sticky substance crawling over his sandals and between his toes, Rift pushes forward without voicing his disapproval. A single lamp hangs from the ceiling, the flickering fire emitting a purplish glow. A third of the way across, Rift realizes the floor is littered with bones, a large skull resting half submerged in the mud near the exit. A sudden clattering sound between his own suction noises causes him to freeze in place. Searching for the source, he is horrified to see the bones slowly rolling into each other, pulled together by some unseen force. Reminded of the Stalchildren, he can't seem to find the will to move as he watches an arm begin to take shape.

"Left!" Mai suddenly screams. Pulling his right leg out of the mud, Rift shifts left, the tip of a large spear nearly grazing his torso. A large skeleton recoils the savage attack, taking a difficult step forward to attempt another. Apparently some sort of undead guardian, its bony chest is covered by ancient armor. Rift's sandals slurp up out of the ground as he attempts to back away in a panic. Turning his attention to the door, he sees the other skeleton is nearly complete as well. The legless ghoul straining to reach its spear lying nearby. Able to move faster than his fleshless antagonists, Rift manages to reach the stairs, sprinting up and out of the room. Emerging into an oddly shaped area with a low ceiling, Rift continues forward, not wanting to give the Stalfos a chance to catch up. "Look!" Mai exclaims, grabbing his attention. Ahead, the room widens onto a platform, and is illuminated by a large hole in the ceiling. A shallow pool of green water further ahead is littered with overgrown plant life, and at the center, a small island of rock holds a large wooden chest. "That must be it!"

Jogging around the debris of the awkward room, Rift crosses the platform and manages to vault over the length of water, landing next to the chest upon the island. Becoming excited himself, he must exert much more effort to throw the lid of this chest back, but the effort is promptly rewarded. A pair of faded black gauntlets rest at the bottom of the wooden box. Reaching in and grabbing them, Rift can't help but feel disappointed by the meager amount of protection they will offer. The length of the forearm, as well as the back of the hand is protected with dark metal plates, the glove at the end only covering his fingers to the second knuckle. Tossing his temporary glove aside and pulling the arm guards on, they fit surprisingly well, stopping just past his elbow. Feeling significantly tougher, though he possesses no fighting skills, Rift throws an awkward punch to show off the gear.

"Looking good!" Mai encourages, instantly causing Rift to blush. Without warning, the entire temple jumps downward, a huge wave of water pouring into the room through the large hole in the ceiling. With gravity consistently pulling upward, Rift is certain the structure is sinking. "I think that's our cue," Mai nervously jokes, as Rift makes a run for the exit.


	3. Chapter 2

**Bid for Power:**

My Vengeance Shines Like Ebony

A harsh, consistent wind pushes against the Gerudo's form, though the force and scraping grains of sand are hardly registered. The mid-morning sun casts a long shadow along the migrating dunes of sand. His ripped cloak billows violently until he finally passes through the gates of his fortress, relocated much deeper in a mountainous ravine to avoid pursuing forces of the crown. Loyal guards push the massive doors shut, and the relentless wind is kept at bay. His stride is purposeful, yet lacks the air of accomplishment his people had hoped to see. Whispers dance overhead, the population of thieves making no effort to draw attention, but remaining interested all the same. Dangling from the man's clinched fist, the mythical helm he thought would lead him to his infinite power. Now it serves as little more than a reminder of his failure. Navigating the short staircases of the multilayered maze of a fortress, he makes his way to his throne. Unlit torches rattle in their metal fixtures, the wind whipping over the high exterior walls of the structure, endlessly pushing against the thick stone of the square architecture. Ascending the final staircase, the man makes no attempt to acknowledge the pair of guards positioned on either side of the door leading into the featureless, grey block of a building. Lowering their spears, the women mumble a greeting as the expressionless man passes by. Painful as it may be, he has returned without glory.

The grey, inconspicuously drab design of the large throne room does nothing to advertise the lavish interior. Rugs and drapes of vibrant red decorate the room, full of only the most attractive Gerudo women. Lazily dowsing along the path to the throne, the scarcely dressed women greet their king with tired smiles as they continue to lounge comfortably. Grapes and oranges acquired by scouts are casually dined upon while the king of thieves angrily tosses his helm to the floor, then sits on his iron throne uncomfortably. Leaning forward, he stares at the golden blight upon his hand, incomplete once again. Scouring his mind, he cannot understand what went wrong. How the balance of elements was knocked askew. The power had fused with his soul completely, and he wielded it with little difficulty, but some unknown factor tore his entire plan to pieces. Deep in thought, he doesn't notice his mistress emerge from the bedroom behind the throne. Wearing the finest silk, her outfit only differs from the plethora of women in the room in that it is slightly more respectable. Her calloused fingers rub against his tense neck, before she begins to remove his armor.

"What good are you," she bellows at the women lying throughout the room. "Your king returns and you lie about?" Quickly finding their feet, several of the women proceed toward the throne, eager to please their king. Waving a dismissive hand, Ganondorf expresses his disapproval.

"Not tonight, Aveil. I'm of a mood," he grumbles, slapping his mistress' hand away to angrily remove his armor himself. Tossing his cloak aside, he pulls off his heavy chest piece, throwing it to the ground as well. Generally startled, the multitude of women awkwardly stand about before returning to their beds and trays of fruit.

"Clearly," Aveil sighs, rolling her eyes and collecting the cloak. "You are injured?" She gasps with widening eyes, noting the large slash through the center of the cloth.

"It's nothing," he grunts, obviously not enjoying the conversation.

"Very well," she absently responds through narrow eyes. "I will dress your wounds when you fancy the notion." With that, she leaves the room, failing to catch her king's eye despite her alluring mannerisms. An uncomfortable silence hangs over everyone's head as Ganondorf continues to ponder the meaning of the recently transpired events. He possesses the Triforce of Power once again. Though he is uncertain what he will do with its strength, he knows he will not repeat the same mistakes. Sensing the mood in the room, one of his favorite girls shyly approaches, hoping to put minds at ease.

"Is there nothing I could do to pull your mind from troubling thoughts?" She asks, attempting to sound sensual, but ultimately sounding extremely nervous.

"Take hold of your tongue and evade my gaze," he promptly retorts, painting the girl white with fear. Meekly backing away, she thoroughly regrets her decision to speak out when a slightly kinder voice sounds from the throne. "Know that I am frustrated with failure. I harbor no hatred for any of you."

"We do," Aveil interrupts, returning to his side. "I would like to know the fate of those who would interfere with my king's ambition."

"It is of little consequence now," he sighs, dismissing the thought. "My treasure was divided once again. The fused shadow was not enough to keep it intact," he reveals, shooting the dark helm a disapproving gaze.

"If it is not enough, then what possibly could be?" She asks, plunging into thought herself.

"I know not," he mumbles, his eyes locking onto his hand once again. Moving closer, Aveil places a loving hand on his shoulder.

"What will we do now?"

"Something to be determined another day," he nods, scooping a hand around her waist playfully. Breathing an amused giggle in his embrace, she fails to notice someone has entered the room.

"I beg pardon for my intrusion," a young woman insists, her immaturity masked well in her confidence. Taking a knee and bowing her head, she is clearly loyal, but her appearance without being summoned is something strictly forbidden. Shockingly unique in her appearance, her skin is noticeably lighter than the other women. Stranger still, her tightly braided hair, fashioned into a circular bun, is a vivid blonde. An oddball amongst the Gerudo women, she wears tightly fitting grey pants as well as an unremarkable grey brassiere showing off her athletic form. Attached to her thighs and waist are a multitude of throwing knives, and upon her forehead rests an ebony jewel. Climbing off of her king's tired form, Aveil is forced to take a more diplomatic stance to the side with a warrior addressing the throne. "I would only ask the yield of your mission," she declares, hoping for a clear and rapid answer.

"He will address the ranks at his leisure," Aveil sternly interjects, appalled by the girl's brazen request. Raising a hand for silence, Ganondorf leans forward in his seat with an understanding grimace.

"Less, is it?" He gruffly asks.

"Yes, my king."

"I understand you're one of my finest scouts, but know this, disrespect of any magnitude will not be tolerated. The mission was unsuccessful. I give you leave to inform the others," he declares, turning his gaze back to Aveil.

"And what of my sister, Moora?" Less inquires, remaining still as a statue on her knee.

"You press far beyond your position!" Aveil shouts, fed up with the girl's continued defiance. Rising from his throne, the king of thieves marches over to the girl's position.

"Rise," he commands, eclipsing her in shadow beneath his massive frame. Promptly standing, her posture is not that of fear, but of insisting respect. Her yellow eyes stare fearlessly into his, betraying no secrets or intentions.

"None returned but your king," he conveys, lightly taking hold of her chin. "Moora fought well, but fell to the damnable Sheikah," he reveals, gauging her response. "I know those eyes well. They are eyes burning with vengeance. Let this violence drive your training, and your day of reckoning will come soon enough," he concludes, staring into her eyes a moment longer. He knows the eyes of vengeance well, but hatred isn't the only thing familiar about them. Fatigue begins to overshadow him like an approaching wave, and he leaves the girl where she stands for his bed. Aveil shoots her one last threatening glance before retiring as well. The stolen chandelier grows dim as a desert wind pushes through the open doors of the room. From the corner of her eye, Less spots the discarded entity of dark power. As a single tear falls for her sister, she decides her vengeance becomes certain upon acquiring the relic.


	4. Chapter 3

**Guiding Light:**

Distant Dreams and Simple Shadows

Hyrule field glows with an aura of possibility in the mid-morning sun. She played out the goodbyes in her head long before they could occur. He would insist he go with her. She would refuse. He would offer her a ride to the castle gates. Again, she would prove stubborn. Finally, he would depart for Ordon to the south with a reluctance she admired. Sharing a brief kiss, the young man in green is atop his trusty steed and galloping into the distance in a heartbeat. She could not make such a scene upon entering Castle Town. The people would resent her escapades while they are left to suffer through the drought and failing economy. An ancient incantation is murmured in her mind, summoning a whirlwind of light, engulfing her form entirely. Once the spell has subsided, the gorgeous young Princess has been replaced by a beggar wearing an inconspicuous, brown cowl. Her sky blue eyes drift past the massive plains and fix upon the castle, overlooking the heartland of the kingdom. Her instincts plead for her to visit Kakariko Village, but necessity dictates she return home first. Setting a brisk pace, she departs the tree-shrouded entrance of the forest, finding the dirt path stretching across the mammoth field toward the castle.

Morning has faded into afternoon when she finally sets foot on the wooden drawbridge. The lone sentry eyes her suspiciously as she advances into town. A large gathering in the market square grabs her attention, the noisy group bantering angrily around the guard captain. Malune, leader of the castle guard for several years, seems to be in over his head dealing with the rabble. Her father had taken a liking to him many years ago, despite his youth and inexperience. He is a handsome young man who was always eager to assist in any manner of calamity involving the town, even as a boy. Now he is failing to keep the peace with his overworked, skeleton crew of a squadron. Drawing closer to the group, concaved around the fountain featuring a sculpture of a hero, the Princess keeps a low profile while listening in.

"Please, listen to me!" Malune shouts, attempting to throw a hush over the crowd. "The city gate must be closed at night. There can be no exceptions."

"Tell that to my little Ona!" An older woman screams, choked with emotion.

"She shouldn't have been outside!" Another man shouts.

"Everyone, please calm down!" Malune calls, failing to suppress the banter.

"Excuse me, what happened here?" The disguised Princess asks, tapping an old man on the shoulder. Turning to face her with some difficulty, he adjusts his balance on his cane before answering.

"A few kids were out playing in the field yesterday," he explains, a sad expression pulling at his face. "Stalchildren took them. Those poor souls."

"That's awful," she gasps, glancing to Malune, then back to the old man. "How can you be sure, though? They may have gone to Kakariko."

"Afraid not," the man sighs, shaking his head at the welcome alternative. "Young Rho was the only one to return. He told us what had happened. Poor chap will probably never be the same."

"I'm so sorry," she responds without thinking.

"Whatever for my dear?"

"I-I must go. Excuse me," she quickly stammers, departing the square for the castle. It seems the tragedies will never cease, and Princess Zelda cannot help but feel partially responsible. Her obligations lie with her people, yet she is drawn far beyond the castle gates much more often than she should, her soul longing to be at Link's side. It has always been an impossible love, but fate has interwoven their paths too many times for her to dismiss the notion as coincidence any longer. Their journey is meant to be taken together, regardless of century old law, and outdated tradition. Still, Hyrule must embrace some degree of peace and stability before the prospect of defying age old custom is even considered.

Grabbing hold of a batch of overgrown vines just south of the castle checkpoint, the Princess displays her excelled agility to no one, ascending over the tall ridge more easily than most able-bodied men. The mighty iron gate barring the beaten path to the castle walls stands far below her, the short trek up the ridge and over the top of the gate proving much too innocuous for a supposedly well-guarded castle. The single guard below remains ignorant to her infiltration as she crosses atop the gate, moving through the formerly beautiful castle grounds. The drought has sucked the grass dry, the plethora of flowers suffering the same fate. The watchful eyes of the pair of soldiers guarding the large castle doors haven't a chance of spotting the highly trained Princess, vaulting past the moat and entering the castle through a secret passageway.

Zelda finds herself in the kitchen, empty for the time being as the king prefers his lunch in the late afternoon. Rows of preparation tables line the center of the room, the large, cast iron pot resting coldly over the extinguished fire. The pleasant smells of stored meat and vegetables, lining the walls in large barrels, beckon her unfulfilled stomach, but she continues on nonetheless. Halfway up the stairs leading to the throne room, another sacred incantation is murmured, and another influx of light engulfs her. The gorgeous Princess of Hyrule enters the throne room casually, only to find the king nowhere in sight. Momentarily confused, she immediately ceases her graceful actions, utilizing more instinctual mannerisms to search for her father. A Princess must radiate grace and poise, but her hiatus with Impa forever detached these gestures from her subconscious. Hiking up her lavish dress, she marches up the spiraling staircase to the king's chambers, high above the main floor. A single sentry posted at the door bows with loyalty as the Princess knocks three times, promptly opening the large door before a reply can be uttered. King Harkinian, ruler of all Hyrule, stands slumped over the balcony at the far side of the room. Breathing an empathetic sigh, Zelda crosses the room and joins him.

"Hello, father," she greets, lovingly embracing his arm.

"Where have you been?" He quickly retorts.

"What do you mean?" She asks, playing dumb even though the king has grown immune to her overused tactics.

"This is no time to be coy," he grumbles, freeing his arm from her grasp and marching back into the room. "You've heard the news, I pray."

"Of course," she nods, following him apprehensively. "The Stalchildren took a group of kids last night. How on earth did they get past the guard at such a late hour?"

"Please," the king sighs, rolling his eyes. "The soldiers sleep no more than few hours before returning to their posts. We haven't the numbers to efficiently patrol."

"Perhaps you'd have sufficient resources if you hadn't sent our army abroad," the Princess quickly interjects.

"Don't start," the king scolds with tired eyes. "It was the right decision. Reports from the front are promising. Arcadia has landed on the coast, but multiple sieges have failed. It is only a matter of time before their resources run dry and they are forced back to sea."

"How long do you wager before our resources run dry?" The Princess retorts sourly. "The children run rampant because they are starved. Their fathers gone for months," she insists, always eager to challenge the king's decision to aid his cousin in what should have been Hyrule's period of recovery.

"Enough," he bellows, clearly growing agitated. A coughing fit quickly crumbles his imposing form, and for an instant, Zelda ceases to see her steadfast father, and instead recognizes the tired old man he's become. "If you want your opinion considered, then make your presence known when the decisions are made. Your people need the charm of their Princess, but when disaster strikes, she is always absent," he points out, stifling another cough.

"Politics are the obligations of kings. If you would take your daughter's prior council to heart, there would be no need of my presence."

"Who is to rule when I am for the afterlife?" The king pleads, attempting to turn the argument into a meaningful discussion.

"You've seen Malune fit to run the town," Zelda sighs, knowing he is far from eligible king material.

"Malune is but a boy," he sighs, weary with stress. "He has a good heart, but he is not fit to rule," he points out, taking Zelda's hand in his own. "My daughter, you are the only one who can carry on our bloodline, less the kingdom fall into another civil war."

"We often face threats far more taxing than drought and petty quarrel," she meekly insists.

"And you must learn to leave them in the trusted hands of others. The days of childish antics have passed. You're a grown woman now. It's high time you started acting accordingly."

"I am not the queen!" She immediately bellows, the flair of anger familiar to her father. "I make my own path. My fate is not dictated by my name."

"It is," Harkinian corrects with sad eyes. "This is our way, and you must learn your place in this family," he nods, too tired to use a stern voice or wear an imposing face. "You will govern your people with the honor of your ancestors. They sacrificed-"

"Do not speak to me of sacrifice," Zelda sharply interrupts. "I will do as my conscience guides me. Your traditions have led us to ruin," she concludes, marching toward the door.

"My patience has fled me, and your childish delusions embrace the very ruin you speak of!" The king shouts as the Princess throws the door open, storming away from her ignorant father. He must never know of her perilous travels, or the necessity they possess. Her trials and tribulations are comically sneered at, dismissed as childish excursions of a listless Princess. However, the alternative is worse still, and her father would undoubtedly have her confined to the castle should he learn of the danger his daughter places herself in regularly. Wiping a velvet gloved finger across her watering eyes, Zelda returns to the kitchen just before the cooks and servants reach the doors. He will never understand what she's been through. The years in hiding with her nursemaid were life altering. Sleepless nights in that cold cavern, never knowing if the Gerudo thieves would descend upon her unexpectedly. Though the experiences were undone when Link returned the Master Sword, the memories of their struggles and hardships remain to this day. Slipping through the secret passageway behind the old wooden cupboard, the Princess is outside the castle walls once again. Her burdens weighing heavily on her mind, she cannot be confined to her room tonight. Prim and proper as she may be capable of acting, she has a need for freedom, an insistent itch for open spaces, rich with opportunity.

Wandering through the courtyard, she quickly loses track of time, lost in her own thoughts. Nayru's wisdom has returned to her, and with it, fragmented visions she cannot yet understand. Ganondorf may have reclaimed the Triforce of power, but he was denied his true objective. Now Nayru offers what guidance she can, the Princess' mind assaulted with blurry memories and fragmented truths. Her recurring daydream is dark and quiet. A shadowy figure is reaching out for her. Whether he is asking for her help or beckoning her soul to the afterlife is unclear. He is incomplete, and his features seem to shift upon the dark pallet of his form. She feels an odd urge to reach out to him, despite his probable evil intentions. Still, something about him is strange, as if his actions are somehow not his own. His effects do not reflect his cause. The vision grows increasingly intense and the Princess suddenly snaps out of her trance to find it has grown dark. An irritating cicada chirps at the starry sky, the stone architecture of the elaborate courtyard seeming to glow in the moonlight. Regaining her senses, Zelda decides to slip away from the security of the castle grounds, reverting to her dark cloak to avoid attention.

Kakariko Village has endured many hardships, but it remains one of the few beacons of hope for the recovering people. Overrun with the ruthless Bulbins only months ago, the village has been restored to its simple kind of peace. Once the king of thieves had been slain, Link refused to rest before heroically driving the savages back to the Bridge of Eldin for good. The shoddy collection of houses seem surreal to the Princess, resting on the uneven town levels. The flicker of candlelight dances in nearby windows as Zelda dips through the shadows, rounding corners and settling beside the old windmill overlooking the houses atop a small hill. A weak wind crawls through the mild night air, and the Princess skates along the grass, silent as the wind itself, dropping into the deep well at the village's center.

Her billowing cloak vanishes in a whirl of light, allowing her to land as soundlessly as a fresh leaf in a still pond. The bottom of the well is an unpleasant sight, the distorted brick walls and dirty paths leading outward in a maze of darkness. The haunting glow of moonlight radiates in the fine mist the grimy stones have produced. Already, she can sense a presence approaching, skillful and thorough as its stealthy antics may be. Quickly moving through the twisting halls, Zelda has returned to her masked alter ego. A dim glow surfaces upon turning a corner, a torch, freshly lit but barely burning. Below the mounted stick of flame, an inconspicuous wall, identical to every other in this unwelcoming setting. Pausing thoughtfully before entering the small amount of light, Sheik gazes at the uneven stones, their shadows growing and shrinking in the torchlight.

"Very good, Ashei," she calls, her soft spoken words echoing through the dark halls. "But your breathing gives you away. You must retain control of yourself before you can control your surroundings."

"You sound just like her," a woman sighs, emerging from the darkness. Wearing a similar blue jumpsuit with the Sheikah symbol upon the white chest, she displays masculine behaviors, proceeding toward the torch casually. Peeking from beneath her cowl, her dark blue bangs appear black in the low lighting. "I'll get you next time, yeah?"

"You just might," Zelda smiles, matching her stride and offering an assuring pat on the shoulder. The illusion of the solid brick wall is well known to them, and the two women pass through the mirage like a veil of weightless silk. The large room beyond the artifice is well lit, the circular training ground lined with blazing torches. An array of practice grounds litters the multistoried area including tests of balance, target ranges, swordplay dummies, and endurance challenges. High above the assorted facilities, an old woman meditates among a sea of candles. Her stout face seems to be concentrating intently beneath her massive ponytail of white hair. Stopping at the center of the room, Ashei watches with amusement as Sheik closes her eyes to concentrate.

"Linu is behind the gossip stone, Boam is above the door," she announces, pausing to concentrate harder. "Sanzu is excelling, but I can feel you behind the scarecrow," she points out with a smile.

"Feel me?" Sanzu asks, emerging from her hiding place. "I don't take your meaning." Slightly smaller than the other two women, Sanzu's curious eyes are partially concealed behind her long, black bangs, dangling on each side of her cheeks all the way down to her chest.

"It's the final level of stealth," Sheik reveals, glancing up to the old woman. Remaining impossibly still, her full lips hint at a smile, but ultimately remain still. "It is your chi. The essence you emit into the universe. It is the most difficult aspect to conceal. The very air around your body will compromise your position if you cannot control your aura."

"That's intense," Boam chuckles, dropping to the floor. Despite his large, muscular frame, his actions are surprisingly silent. Approaching the growing group, he glances at the scarecrow, impaled with a strait blade.

"Did I at least get my breathing right this time?" Linu asks, an immature whine failing to be removed from his voice.

"Close, but you're trying too hard," Sheik reveals, gesturing with her hands. "Remember, you are not inhaling and exhaling, you're merely a vessel through which air may travel." Nodding with understanding, the young boy brushes a hand through his short blonde hair nervously. Her disciples are improving, but even so she worries it is not quickly enough. The legendary Sheikah race has become little more than a memory, a fairy tale for imaginative children. The sworn protectors of the royal family have executed their duty without fail, but just as the royal family itself shrinks, so too has the Sheikah race. Nimbly ascending the room's levels, Sheik lands before the old woman, bowing respectfully before beginning the dialogue. "I regret that my visit is not one of simple purpose, but I must seek your council."

"You flatter me with formality my dear," the woman laughs, pulled from her trance with little reservation. "Surely that young man has come around by now. Still resisting your charms is he?"

"I'm serious," she sighs, blushing slightly. A glare over her shoulder promptly returns the gawking group below to their training. "The king of thieves has returned."

"Impossible," she states flatly.

"Is it?" She retorts, raising an eyebrow.

"I fear it must not be. I have felt a darkness weaving into the winds from the west. Will the damned Gerudo never learn?"

"I fear for the worst, Impa. He has shattered the Triforce once again," she reveals, raising her hand to display the glowing triangle.

"This is an ill omen. This kingdom cannot withstand another blight of darkness," she sighs, a tired expression stealing over her face.

"I know. I'm afraid their training thus far will have to suffice. I must employ every resource to ensure the tranquility of the realm."

"They are not ready," Impa mutters, shaking her head with disapproval.

"They are not Sheikah," she promptly corrects. "But they are capable. Besides, they're all we've got now." A brief silence ensues, and Impa considers the information carefully before responding.

"The piercing ceremony must come first," she insists, reflecting on the timeframe they have to work with. "It's strange. I haven't pierced an ear since your young hero proved himself worthy."

"He wears it to this day," Zelda nods with a fond smile.

"Alright," Impa starts, obviously uncomfortable with the thought of sending such undisciplined pupils out into the world. "What do you have in mind?"


	5. Chapter 4

**Hylian Hero:**

A Peace that's Seldom Lasting

An energetic Epona playfully nudges Link's back as he dismounts in Ordon Village. More irritated than affectionate, he gives her a loving pat on the head just the same before proceeding to his house. The village is a modest example of southern life in Hyrule. The rolling hills serve well for ranching, the grassy earth surviving the drought thus far. Large packs of goats migrate through the fenced-in fields, grazing lazily. The houses utilize a cabin-style construction with thick patches of hay serving for roofing. Pulling open the door to his small shack, Link isn't surprised to find Ilia waiting. The mayor's daughter has grown into an attractive woman, though her short, dishwater blonde hair and sleeveless shirt are a bit tomboyish. Friends for many years, Link grew up with Ilia after his heroic adventure through time itself. The master sword was returned from whence it came, and Link regained his lost childhood. Ganondorf's thwarted siege upon the castle granted Link a second chance at life. The Princess convinced him to distance himself from Castle Town. The royal family remained plagued by tradition, even more so once the prophecy was fulfilled, and the daughter of a king cannot associate with a commoner of any status. Kokiri Village was out of the question. Link is not one of them, and even after finding his lost fairy, he could not continue to live amongst the ageless children. Ordon Village was a growing nexus of agriculture and the mayor couldn't have been happier to welcome another able bodied boy willing to earn his stay. It has been his home for many years since.

"You kept me waiting," Ilia sighs, setting her knitting aside as Link strolls through the door.

"I think I'll wait outside," Navi awkwardly interjects, drifting toward the door.

"Park it fairy," Ilia warns, her tone that of a wronged housewife. "I bet you put him up to it."

"Hey, it had to be done. Heroes don't get vacations," Navi points out, floating near Link's head.

"I can't do this," Ilia mumbles, shaking her head. "I can't keep waiting for you. Never knowing if you're even coming home." A sad look steals over Link's face, knowing she is right. He could be killed, or worse yet, sent through time once again. Ilia has wanted for nothing but a normal life, but her best friend has grown distant from her through his endless obligations. First, a missed birthday. Then, a forgotten date. Always to meet with his forbidden love, scouting a potential threat or quelling a bandit nuisance.

"Someone has got to step up when evil strikes again," Navi shrugs, apathetic toward Ilia's emotions.

"Was she there?" Ilia asks, her face turning stern. A brief silence is all the confirmation she needs. "She was," she sighs, her eyes dropping to the floor. With no words to offer, Link watches her pathetically, physically exhausted from his brutal fight to save the realm once again. No peace, and certainly no hero's welcome waiting for his deserving spirit. In time he has learned fighting in secret has its advantages, but gradually it has become more and more of a burden on his daily life.

"Do you know what he went through last night?" Navi chirps, trying to turn the tables. "Get off his back already."

"Fine," Ilia states flatly, starting toward the door. "You won't ever find a Princess waiting here all night for you. Just me," she concludes, slamming the door as she exits. A brief grunt followed by a long sigh is all Link can utter, his outstretched arm finding nothing but the door. He doesn't need this. Not now. Ganondorf has returned with a vengeance, and the hero of time can't even manage a brief rest without receiving a bucketful of stress. Painfully pulling off his cumbersome shield, his wounds produce a loud hiss through his teeth with the effort. The only thing he needs right now is sleep. Dropping onto his bed, a powerful drowsiness overwhelms his mind and muscles. Ganondorf's evil grin flashes through his mind, then Zelda's lips, sweet as nectar upon his, though he quickly stifles the thought. She is royalty and he is a commoner. He finds himself having to repeat the fact all too often lately. Such thoughts only prove to infect the heart with sadness in the end. For whatever reason, Saria's song and thoughts of the forest drift through his head as he falls asleep.

"Sweet dreams," Navi whispers, landing on the nightstand beside the bed to have a well-deserved rest of her own. Link opens his eyes and finds himself in the forest. He is a young boy once again. The Lost Woods are as familiar as the back of his hand, but he has journeyed much deeper than ever before. Searching for days, Navi is still nowhere to be found. Suddenly, Epona bucks him off of her back, spooked by some unseen presence. Before he can climb to his feet, Link spots the heart-shaped mask, drifting toward him and filling him with dread. The large eyes and colorful spikes protruding out the sides bear down upon him just as the earth below opens up to swallow him. Falling into the dark abyss, his stomach lurches, jolting him awake. The sun has already begun its descent into the west as Link's nap continued much longer than he'd planned.

"Finally," Navi exclaims, bobbing about his bed. "You are impossible to wake up, you know that?" Feeling groggy, he holds his head for the moment before climbing to his feet. The recurring nightmare has tormented him for years. Termina, Clock Town, the falling moon, and Majora's Mask plague his subconscious like a cancer. Navi had stumbled upon him lying unconscious in the forest, but even she couldn't tell him how he got there. The entire experience was far too real to have been a dream, but still, not a single shred of evidence exists to prove he had ever ventured to Termina. Navi left him when he told the Princess of Ganondorf's plot, returning to the forest feeling depressed and useless once their adventure together had ended. She has always held a bitter remorse for the Princess, and more importantly, her effect on Link. Eventually, touched by his efforts to find her, Navi has returned to his side and has remained ever since. With his empty scabbard and heavy shield resting upon his back once again, Link exits his house with determination. Ordon has been the least affected of the provinces since the drought took hold of the kingdom. The children play along the paths near the mill, the creek continuing to produce a meager amount of water. Scanning the area for his horse, Link spots young Colin jogging over to greet him.

"Link! You're back," Colin shouts, giving Link a slug in the shoulder. Having grown into a young man, Colin has matured beyond his timid ways. Utilizing Link as a role model, he has sworn to protect his younger sister from harm. "Ilia looked pretty cross. What'd you do this time?" Shaking his head dismissively, Link decides he'd rather pass on the subject.

"Where's your sister?" Navi asks, dancing through the open air.

"Right there by the," he starts, his jaw dropping open upon locating her. "Oh no! Uliana!" He shouts, sprinting back toward the mill. Always a handful, young Uliana is attempting to grab hold of the wheel attached to the mill and ride it like a ferris wheel. With a gleeful smirk, Link turns to leave while Colin is distracted. It doesn't suit the Hylian man the same way it might have suited the adolescent. The life of a hero. The insistent attention from every passing soul, praising his actions and sacrifices. He never chose this life, it chose him. Running Ganondorf through with his sword etched his name into Hyrule's history. The King demanded a celebration once the land had recovered. A statue of the slayer of evil was erected in the center of Castle Town to commemorate the grandiose occasion. Poems were written and songs were sung as Hyrule finally saw a prosperous day dawn on its citizens. All of the clamor and special treatment only served to remind Link why he moved so far south. Simple people of simple means who respect his privacy every bit as much as they respect the man himself. Guiding Epona past the stables and toward his house, Ilia seems to have cooled off since this morning.

"We don't have time for another lecture," Navi groans. Shooting her an angry glance, Link manages to silence the fairy for now. Having grown all too comfortable answering for him, Navi often fails to accurately capture his mood.

"I'm not here to argue. Epona needed to be brushed is all. She's ready to go," she explains, handing the reins to Link. Accepting them graciously, Link suddenly feels uncomfortable leaving things as they are. "Colin sure has grown up," she points out as they turn to watch him pluck Uliana off the wooden wheel. Attempting to scold her, he has to chase her down once again as she quickly scampers away. "At least he knows how to take care of his family. Rusl answered the call to arms for the Gamelon front and took Talo with him," she reveals, grabbing a shocked expression from Link. Certain Rusl would go, he never dreamed young Talo would tag along. "I know, he's young, but he's better with a sword than half the guard. I think he'll be fine." A slow wind glides through the area, the trees rustling lazily as the sun continues to set. The village has a stifling sense of nostalgia that Link has grown to find slightly more unsettling than pleasant. Glancing back to Ilia, Link notes her thoughtful expression as she stares into the distance.

"We better get going before the sun sets," Navi points out, already floating away from the town to hurry Link along. Though her insufferable antics never fail to intensify when he is near another woman, Link knows she is right. With an apologetic face, he turns back to Ilia.

"It's alright," she shrugs, touching his arm and tracing her fingers down to his hand. Grabbing hold of his shabby, leather glove she squeezes it between her hands before looking Link in the eyes. "Time never stands still, Link. We need you here. My dad's getting too old to manage the goats anymore. He asked me to convince you to stay, but I know you won't," she breathes as a single tear rolls down her cheek. "So I'll just ask this," she starts, touching a hand to his cheek. "Don't forget about us." With that, she releases his hand and quickly retreats to her home. Feeling increasingly guilty, Link presses his forehead against Epona's while he considers Ilia's words. Though it is so much more than most men could dream of, the life of a rancher holds no appeal to him. Working through the days, settling down with a lovely wife, and having kids. To want for more is a fool's endeavor.

"Link! Come on! Daylight's burning," Navi calls, circling the path exiting through the trees. With an irritated sigh, Link climbs into the saddle and quickly gallops away from the village. The sun has all but set as he charges past Lake Hylia to his left. The repetitive sound of hooves meeting dirt coupled with the fresh wind pressing against his face grants Link a needed reprieve from his thoughts. Responsibility and obligations have plagued him since childhood, but out here in the open he feels a sense of freedom from the restraints pulling him in every direction. Zelda will know what to do. Now that he has much more than a petty excuse to see her, his stress begins to lessen, and his sense of morality relents for the time being. A chill runs down his spine as he suddenly can't shake the feeling he is being watched.

"What is this?" Navi asks. Suddenly on edge as well, Epona's gallop slows significantly. Though it is impossible, Link recognizes the feeling well. It is the aura of a thirst for blood. A sensation limited to his dreams, until now.


End file.
